The Time Of My Life
by The Starkiller
Summary: "If I told you what you want to hear, 'Oh, being the fifth Beatle was so fab all the time', I'd be lying to you. We all know I find it physically impossible to lie. But... It was the time of my life." From start to finish, she was there. Here's the story of The Beatles, through the eyes of Holly McFarlane, best friend of Paul McCartney
1. Chapter 1 (Revamped Chapter One)

**Chapter ****1**

**Got My Mind Set On You**

~1958, Liverpool, England~

"Where are you two going?" Paul's dad asked us as we went out the door. Paul looked behind him as he opened the door for both of us.

"Holl and I are going to John's." His father nodded, though from his face I could tell he had met this John character that Paul endlessly went on about and didn't approve of him.

"Two hours," he said. "It's a school night." We stepped outside the door, and started walking.

"Holl, you are going to love the band," Paul said enthusiastically. My friend had been going on about his new band "The Quarrymen" nonstop for ages. I rolled my eyes.

"Paul, I love all rock and roll, of course I'll love the band."

"You know that's not what I meant," Paul said. "They're a pretty cool group of guys, I think you'll like them." We finally reached John's house, and Paul knocked on the door. You could hear the loud talking (_yelling_ is probably a better term for it) from outside perfectly clear.

"Paulie!" said the guy who answered the door. "'Bout fuckin' time you show up-" Then he noticed me. And believe me, I noticed him. He had thin light brown eyes that seemed to hold a permanent bored expression, a slightly hooked nose, thin lips, and his hair was greased back in a DA similar to Paul's.

"Erm,- is this your friend you said you were going to bring?" he asked, while looking at me as though he was trying to read me. I could tell what he was thinking: _How dare he bring a bird to our sacred practice! _Paul nodded.

"John Lennon, this is my best mate, Holly McFarlane." John nodded and held out his hand, and I shook it.

"So you're Paul's new bitch? He hasn't talked about someone so much since he met George," I said as Paul rolled his eyes.

John grinned, "Wonderful to meet you too". He let us in, and Paul left me to unload his stuff and greet the other Quarrymen.

"So," John said, trying to get rid of the awkward silence. "Paul never said that you were a bird, but he did say that you play. You interested in jamming with us tonight?"

"Yeah. I pretty much taught McCartney how to play," I answered. "But I didn't know I would get to have a chance, otherwise I would have brought my guitar." Then Paul chimed in with "Yes I did say she was a bird!" as a response to John's earlier statement about my female status, but John had already disappeared into the inner depths of the house, 'Mendips', his aunt's house. We were stuck on the screened in porch, because Paul explained that she didn't want the noise in her house, and always made John play outside. While he was gone, Paul introduced me to the other Quarrymen.

"Holl, this is Pete and Stu, and you obviously know George." I smiled and chatted with them. John soon reappeared with two guitar cases in his hands. He handed me the one in his left hand, and to my dismay, it was an acoustic guitar, instead of my preferred electric. I was fine with acoustic, which I had played most of my life, but a few months before I had finally gotten an electric guitar and had since almost completely refused to play anything but an electric guitar.

"Oh, John, another thing: Holly prefers to play electric, not acoustic," Paul said, surveying my expression.

"Well, when she proves to me she can play at all, then I'll let her touch my baby," John said skeptically.

I picked up the guitar and said "Icky, acoustic!" sarcastically. I retuned the guitar for John, who obviously hadn't grasped the concept of tuning a guitar. After tuning the guitar properly, I performed "That's Alright", Elvis Presley style in my effort to gain access to John's 'baby'. I wiggled my hips at the right moments. I finished, and John tried to hide the look on his face that said _I'm impressed. For a bird_.

I bowed and said "Thank you, thank you very much." John rolled his eyes, and handed over his electric guitar. Then, warming myself up, I played something a little bit advanced for the late '50's. Everyone's eyes were wide, except for Paul's, who was more than used to it, since he lived with me and all, and George's, because he and I used to play together all the time so we could improve each other's skills. Then, once the initial shock wore off, we all got back together for a huge jam session. It was amazing.

When we left, Paul asked me, "Was I right or not?"

I nodded, "Yeah, you were right." Well, of course they're cool. All I was thinking, though, was, _That John kid is... wow, damn..._


	2. Chapter 2 (Revamped Chapter Two)

_I just wanted to take a moment to thank the people who are following and reviewing this story. It makes me feel happy inside when I open up my email and see notifications there. It's such a feeling that my love, I can't hide! Heck, thanks for even reading. -Starkiller24_

******Chapter 2**

******Time to Make a Change**

~1960, England~

I sighed, as I looked out the window. I had been getting less and less content with traveling with the Quarrymen to gigs. As much as I enjoyed traveling with the band, I needed something different. I hardly ever saw them, anyway. After shows, they would go out for drinks, and I would sit there, waiting for them. For the longest time, I had wanted to go to America and open a record shop. I had fell in love with music a long time ago, and now I wanted to make it my life. At home, one day, I decided that's what I'd do. I was still staring out the window when Paul came in.

"What do you see?" he asked, sitting next to me.

All I said was, "I wish I could be a bird. Then I could fly away."

I knew he had looked away. "Listen, Holl, I feel bad about us always leaving you when we go play." I looked at him, and hid my discontentedness.

"No, it's fine. We all have to make a living somehow. But the least you could do is come back to get me when you go out for drinks!"

He laughed. "Very Hollyesque answer. I was wondering if you would actually tell me the truth or not. But that's you, always trying to make people happy because you aren't." I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"Oh, come off it, Holly. You KNOW you're unhappy," he said. "But I need to tell you something, it's a good opportunity for the us." _Now's as good a time as any_, I thought. _Just tell him you're going to America. Easy_.

"Fire away," I said.

"We're going to Hamburg!" he said excitedly. I stared at him for a bit. It was easy to tell that Paul was ecstatic, but I was still having trouble grasping why someone could be so happy to go to Germany.

"Germany? Why in the hell would you go to Germany?"

"Because this bloke told us he'd pay us every night to play his club in Hamburg," he said, now looking out the window as I had been.

"Well," I said. "Now's as good a time as any." He jumped up, and I knew he would make some type of joke about me involving love, sex, etc, etc.

"No," he said. "Holly, you TOLD me you'd be careful!" I rolled my eyes.

"Shut your gob, Paul. I'm not pregnant. I was GOING to say that I want to go to America to open a record store." Paul gaped at me.

"America?" he whispered. "What will Dad think?" I had been living with the McCartney's for two years, so I had taken to calling his father 'Dad'.

"You're the last one to know," I said, watching a blackbird take off into the sky. He seemed dumbfounded.

"So everybody knows, except me? You didn't tell your best friend you were moving to the other side of the world?" I rolled my eyes again.

"Because I knew you would have a fit like this," I told my friend knowingly. "Don't worry, though. Morgan and Lauren are coming with me. Lauren's going to help with the record shop, and Morgan wants to make jewelry." Paul nodded, though I could tell that he wasn't quite pleased for me. I suppose that taking care of someone for two years has that effect on someone, but believe it or not, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

"Promise to write me?" I said, giving him a hug.

"You know I always will," He said, hugging me back. John casually strolled into the room.

"Whoa!" he said. "I didn't know you two were a thing..." I took off my shoe and chucked it at him.

"Shut up, Lennon!" I yelled. "Jesus Christ, is that the only thing you can't do?" He ran out before my perfectly aimed shoe hit him in the head.

Paul looked at me, "That'll teach him, won't it?"

...

I looked at my home of two years, more a home to me than my "real" home ever was. It seemed so sad, though I knew that I would be back again someday. All my clothes and belongings were on my back in a bag. I walked out of Paul and I's room, still feeling like I was going for good. I ran up to his dad and hugged him, dropping all my things in the process.

"I'm going to miss you, Dad," I said. He squeezed me.

"Holly, you know you'll always be the daughter I never had." I nodded.

"Well?" Paul said. "Are we going, or what?" I pulled away and met up with Paul. All of our friends were waiting for us, having already said their farewells to their own families. He took me by the shoulders like a parent, making me feel extremely short in comparison to him.

"Now," Paul said, looking down at me. "Promise me you'll be good."

"Because that's going to happen," I said, laughing. He let go of me.

"At least promise me you won't beat up any Americans?" Paul pleaded. "I'd hate for you to get deported."

"No promises," Lauren said. And we parted ways.

...

We were finally in America. Lauren and I stood in the building we had bought.

"This place needs some work," I said.

"Most definitely," Lauren agreed. At my apartment, I went down to get my mail. I went through it. All the while, my pessimistic thoughts were messing with my brain again. _What made us think we could do this? We're so far away from home, and we're basically stuck here, 'cause we're broke. _

"Bills...bills... Paul McCartney, Hamburg," I said, pulling that one out. I opened it so fast the envelope looked like it had been hit by a truck.

_Dear Holly,_

_Lo, it's John. Macca told me to write to you, because he burned his hand. It's his right one he burned, but oh well. Told me to tell you we made it, and he left the rest to me. It's going slow over here. Hey, on the other side of the world, if we sent you a record, would you sell it in that shop of yours? That would be great. German audiences are a lot different then British ones, I'll tell you that. Okay, I'm handing you over to George. Hi, Holly, it's Geo. How's it in America? Stuff is really different over here. At least you speak the same language as the people over there! I remember you asked me to send you a German spoon, so that's in here. Why would you want a spoon? Oh, well. See you later. Oh, yeah, can you put in a good word with Morgan for me?_

_Love, John, George, and Paul_

I shook my head and laughed, the negative thoughts expelled from my brain. Ah, the comforts of home.


	3. Chapter 3 (Revamped Chapter Three)

**Chapter 3**

**Working Class Hero**

I decided right then that I'd never worked my ass off harder in my life.

"Lauren, this is a pain in the ass," I said, brushing more orange paint onto the wall of our empty store. "And I'm hungry."

Lauren put a box of records onto a table with great difficulty. "You're telling me. We're almost definitely going to lose our apartments in a few weeks."

I dropped my brush and went to hang on her. "But I'm hungry, Mummy!"

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. Come on, honey, we'll go to that Italian restaurant down the street you like."

We walked on down the street, and got some odd looks because of our clothes and Scouse. We were Teddy Girls, so the clothes thing wasn't too new. We walked in and got a table and got more odd looks because of our accents when we began to order. We had to tell the waiter what we wanted to eat twice because he didn't know what we were saying, and finally he just supplied us a pen and I wrote our orders on my napkin for him. After that rather frustrating incident, I pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of my back pocket.

"What's that?" Lauren asked, making a gesture to it.

"My letter back to the boys," I answered, then I went over to a little girl and asked her politely if I could borrow her crayon, and she told me to keep it, she didn't like green anyway. She also said she had never met a British woman before, and I laughed and said I never met an American girl before. I sat back down.

Lauren laughed at me, "You are such a kid! You'd be a good mum. Y'know, 'cause you'd be the gear laid-back mum everyone wants."

I chuckled a bit, and looked at my crumply piece of paper, "Let's put first things first. I kind of need a guy for that, and guys suck. I know this is sort of hypocritical, since I don't believe in soulmates, but I need THE guy."

"I hear you. But I bet that guy's in Germany, playing music in a pub right now." She winked. I hit her.

Lauren had meant Paul, but little did either of us know, she was right.

"Shut up!" I exclaimed. I read my letter to myself while Lauren was flirting with an American guy behind us.

Dear Paul, John, and George,

_Thanks for the letter! George- Thank you for my spoon. That meant a lot to me. I almost cried tears of joy. No, you have to get Morgan yourself. I hooked you up with your last girlfriend. John- Yes, I could sell a record if you send me one. You guys are good, I bet the Americans would love you! Paul- Stop being a baby about your hand._

_Everybody- It's fun over here. Slow also, but fun nevertheless. I might be homeless soon, though. That puts a damper on things. Lauren says lo with her mouth full, Morgan says hello with her mouth not so full. Guess what's weird? Everybody wears pants over here! They also have weird accents. Most of the men are creepy- Lauren wanted me to mention she's almost been kidnapped two times. Most of the women are nice, though. Sorry I'm writing with a green crayon, I'm in a restaurant and I took the opportunity to write, so I took a crayon from a little girl. Love from Holly_

Lauren read it over, and punched me a few times. "I did not say I'd almost been stolen 2 times!" She yelled.

"But you were thinking it," I said innocently. She grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

"Let's go back before I kill you," she grumbled, dragging me along.

I said, "Lauren, you do know that murder is illegal in America, right? This isn't Liverpool."

She scowled. I miss the boys.


	4. Chapter 4 (Revamped Chapter Four)

**Chapter 4**

**Money (That's What I Want)**

Not long after that, I got a record in the mail from John in Hamburg, which held one song, "My Bonnie". Paul decided he would have John write letters to me because he words things better.

I ran into the store, which we had dubbed 'Strawberry Field Records'. Lauren was stocking crates with records we had ordered. Most of them were American records, since the British rockers hadn't made much of a splash in the US, and our favorites. We listened to each one, so we could honestly tell people if they were good or not. I looked at the place again. It was the way I had pictured it sitting in my room in Liverpool while smoking a cigarette. Orange walls, crates of records organized by band, a couple rooms with record players in them in case you weren't sure about the record, and a couple of witty, energetic owners (us). A guy about our age walked in. He had shaggy hair, and blue, mischievous eyes.

"What are you looking for?" I said, putting my record on the counter.

"I don't know. Have anything different than the normal shit?" he asked while looking the place over. He also seemed like he was looking me over too.

I shot him a look that said _In your dreams, cowboy, _and I eyed my Beatle record sadly. I handed it to him.

"This is a record some of my mates made. You could try it out," I said, handing it over. He eyed it with a strange look on his face.

"'The Beatles'?" He asked. I nodded.

"That's them. At first they were called The Quarrymen. We're all from England, and I traveled around with them to their gigs. They were offered a full time gig in Hamburg, and I came here with my co-owner. I miss them a great deal sometimes."

I pointed at the cover, "There's John, over there is Pete, then next to him is Stu and George, and by John is my best mate Paul."

He nodded and grinned at me,"Well I could tell you're from somewhere, 'cause nobody says 'mates' here, and I could barely understand a word you were saying!"

"I get that a lot," I replied.

We went in a back room and put it on the record player. At this point, I had never heard it before. It was amazing, for the song being "My Bonnie". I recognized all their voices, and could pull the individual voices from the harmonies.

He smiled a bit, and said "I'll take it." The kid gave me ten bucks and was gone.

I wrote John and Paul that night.

_Lo! Guess what I did today? I sold your record! I would give you the money, but it's not of much use to you in Hamburg, so I'm going to keep it safe for you (what I really mean is I'm going to use it to pay my rent. You wouldn't want me to be homeless, would you?). _

_Love from Holly_


	5. Chapter 5 (Revamped Chapter Five)

_Hey! Sorry this update is so slow, I was editting this on my phone, and left it for a couple hours, and it deleted all my progress! Anyway, without further ado..._

**Chapter 5**

**Getting Better**

_1962, New York, NY_

I was used to the American atmosphere now. I was also getting pretty close to John. It felt as though we were actually friends, whereas before we just made fun of each other and only put up with each other because the other was Paul's friend. Letters from Hamburg had gone from John writing for Paul to me to John writing to me.

I walked to my apartment with the letter I had recieved, although I was confused as to why the return address said "Liverpool, UK" instead of "Hamburg, Germany".

Lauren was at my place because we were two teddy girls from Liverpool trying to make it in New York. All we had was each other, so she was often a fixture in my apartment.

"More letters from your lover?" she asked, handing me the dinner that she must have finished cooking while I was at my mailbox.

"Shut up!" I said. Lauren had always found it fun to make fun of Paul and I's (strictly platonic) relationship, and now she had switched to making fun of me and John. The worst part about it was that I didn't have anything to use against her. Damn it all.

I looked at my plate in an attempt to change the subject.

"This would be so much better if I had some type of alcoholic drink," I said.

Lauren then informed me not to push it and that I was lucky that she made me food at all.

I chose to read my letter instead of wearing my legs as a hat.

_Holl, _

_We have some wonderful Beatle news for you! _

_News #1: We now have a manager. His name is Brian Epstein. He decided to clean us up. No more leather (goddamn it!)..._

_News #2: We replaced Pete with a guy named Richard Starkey, we call him Ringo. He's got at least 6 rings on one hand! _

_News #3: We are back in England, thank God. Hamburg isn't what I thought it would be, I'll tell you that much. Will you come back to England? Just for a short visit? Macca keeps complaining that he hasn't seen you in so long, blah blah blah. You know how he gets. Goes through Holly withdrawl. Ah, well, got this lot buggering me around. I have to go. _

_-John _

_P.S., If you come, we'll look different, we got new haircuts._

I sighed. I missed them terribly. New York was wonderful and all, but it just wasn't home.

I looked at Lauren, "Would you manage if I went home for a bit?"

"Why?" she asked.

"The boys are home, and they want me to meet them there and I haven't seen them in a long time," I said. "I like my teddy boys, you know."

"When?" Lauren asked.

"I don't know, and neither do they," I admitted.

"Well, when you find out, tell me, and we'll arrange something."

I cleaned my plate, and I went in my room. I looked at myself, along with a picture Paul, George, John, and I. My hair was longer. I dressed a bit differently, but I was the same person. I stopped wearing the leather pants, but the leather jacket and t-shirts were still a permanent fixture of my image. I wondered if they were still the same. I was having a hard time picturing them without the DA. When you don't see someone for almost two years, it makes you doubt a lot of things.

I decided to burn some money and make an out-of-country call to see when they wanted me to come. I stood by the phone, listening to it ring.

"Hello?" said a female voice, whose accent was different then the familiar Scouse. There's only one person I know who lives in Liverpool that doesn't have a Liverpudlian accent.

"Hi Mimi. Is John there?" I asked. "It's Holly."

"Oh! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you, I haven't hear your voice in so long. Yes, he is, just a second... Can never find that boy..."

I heard some yelling in the backround, muffled voices, and finally, "'Ello!" I smiled, even though he couldn't see me.

"Johnny!"

"Hey!" he said. "What're calling 'round here for? Calls from New York to Liverpool are expensive!"

"When do you want me to come ?" I asked. "I have to arrange my absences, you know."

"I didn't actually think that you'd come," John admitted.

"It pains me that you have so little faith in me," I said. "Well, I am. When do you want me to come?"

I heard John yelling the backround again, some rather coarse language, and a "Hello?" I grinned broadly.

"Paulie!" I exclaimed.

"Hi, girl!" he said. "What's up?"

"When do you want me to come home?" I asked. "I have to arrange my absences with Lauren, y'know."

There was muffled voices as he conferred with John.

"Two weeks?" Paul asked. "Or do you need more time to arrange everything?"

"Sure. Two weeks sounds fine by me."

We exchanged a few more words, and the line went dead. I cursed. I didn't have enough money to call back, unless John paid for the call, and I knew that he couldn't afford it either.

The game plan was that I'd fly to London, get a train ride to Liverpool, and they would meet me at the train station. Simple, right? Wrong! Those damn gits can't tell fucking time, even if it whacked them upside the head. They were almost an hour or two off schedule.

I waited there for two hours. I kicked my feet. I twiddled my thumbs. I borrowed a newspaper. I wrote swear words under the bench I was sitting on. Then I heard them talking amongst themselves.

"We'll find her, Macca, keep your shirt on," John was saying.

"I know that-" Paul started to say, but I interrupted his retort with a hug.

"I like the hair," I said. They laughed.

I gave Paul and George a hug, and I started to do the same for John, but stopped halfway and shook his hand instead. I introduced myself to Ringo and shook his hand.

My fears of them changing had turned out to be irrational. We had a jam session just like old times. I hadn't played in awhile, due to working, but I didn't sound too bad. We played all the old favorites, and the new favorites.

We went out to dinner to celebrate my homecoming. Not the best dinner I've ever had, but it was definitely the best we could afford at that point.

"So," Paul asked me. "Were you good in America like you promised you'd be?"

I drank my whiskey and Coke, "I didn't promise anything. I most certainly wasn't good. Thought you'd know me by now, Paulie."

Ringo whispered to John, "Are they together?"

John said, "They're best mates, but basically, they are. Still in the closet, but we aren't rushing them." I kicked his shins under the table.

"We are not 'basically together'!"

He held his hands up. "Whatever you say! I'm on the same team that you are!"

We all exchanged stories about our travels to faraway lands in galaxies far, far away. Some were funny, others were serious, but I loved them all.

I loved being home again. My plane took back to New York a week later, and I was even more confused about my feelings than I had been before. Seeing John again had made everything worse. When you're reading letters, you can ignore your heart just fine, but when you see someone in person, you have to be one hell of a good actress. I couldn't decide if I hated John, he was my friend, or if I loved him. It was driving me mad.

I threw my stuff on a chair, and noticed how horrible and, to be perfectly honest, ghetto my apartment was. It was all I could afford. I sighed. What're you going to do?

I missed the times way back when I could just be friends with a guy, and not have one single romantic thought about the man. I also missed the times when I didn't think too much about the L word, and just had a bunch of meaningless sex. Now it seemed that the stupid L word was all I could think about.


	6. Chapter 6 (Revamped Chapter Six)

**Chapter 6**

**Happy Christmas!**

Since the boys had found a record company, the store had been able to sell more and more records. Unfortunately, at this time of year, my customers couldn't seem to get it through their thick skulls that I sold rock albums, not Christmas music. Honestly, Americans are as thick as a brick sometimes. I had to make a sign to go on the front window, because it became to where about ten people would come in everyday, asking why there was no Christmas misic for sale.

I was getting excited to go home for the holidays and see the family. Or, the people who love me more than my biological family that I have called my family for many years. I'd go visit my older sister, but she had a husband and children and the whole shibang, and I didn't want to ruin their family Christmas. Y'know, crazy Auntie Holly who hangs out with all of the teddy boys like "one of those girls". That's me.

Lauren, Morgan, and I were preparing to fly home for Christmas. While attempting to find another shirt, I opened the dresser drawer, and waiting for me was an overflowing stack of letters. I groaned, pulled out a shirt, and made a silent note to myself to put those some place else.

Lauren barged (uninvited, mind you) into my room. She eyed the letters with an amused air about her.

"You keep those?" she asked. I was now sitting on my suitcase, trying to zip it.

"Ever heard knocking?" I asked her. "Stop standing there like a dumbass and help me zip this damn thing!"

Morgan ran in and looked at my suitcase, "Holly! I can't believe we're leaving _tomorrow_ and you decided _now_ was a good time to pack!"

I shrugged. "I was bored now. I was entertained before."

Morgan only shook her head at me, which reminded me of a boy from our school when we were kids. The pair helped me zip my suitcase while I sat on it. Then, with great difficulty, I picked up my suitcase and put it on the floor.

"Now, since it's late and all, and you guys live so far away, get out of my hou-apartment!" I yelled at the pair. I had started to say 'house', because that's just how the saying goes, but I then decided it wasn't much of a house, was it?

"Fine..." they said, and sulked away to their own shitty apartments.

I looked at my picture on my dresser once more, taking in the pure happiness of those people I had once known like the back of my hand, myself included. Then, slightly drunk but very weary, I went to bed.

I woke up to somebody screaming "Wake up Mummy, it's Christmas Eve!" I opened my eyes, and as my vision slowly got more and more clear, I saw it was Lauren, jumping up and down on my bed. Then she frowned and said, "Morgs, she's _still_ asleep. Should we try the fire one?" Then Lauren looked down at me and said, "Oh. Nevermind. She's up."

I hit her with a pillow. "Don't call me first. Don't knock on the door. Just come in and jump on me," I said.

"But you overslept! If we let this go, we'd miss our flight!" Morgan explained. "We don't wake up at six AM because we like it, you know!"

"Shit!" I yelled, and I jumped up and got dressed. We actually still are the record holders for the Airport Dash to this very day.

Sitting on the plane, I looked out the window, bored. Waiting for the plane to actually take off is the worst part of flying.

"I hate planes." I said.

"Why?" Morgan asked.

"They make me feel like a bug, and I hate bugs," I replied. "I'm bored."

Morgan held up a piece of string, "Cat's Cradle?"

I looked at it. "Don't I feel six again." She laughed.

After a train ride next to a middle aged man who seemed to burp up soup in his sleep, we were finally in Liverpool some time later.

"Ah, home for the holidays!" I exclaimed happily, getting up and stretching.

Morgan and I attempted to wake up Lauren, who is quite infamous in our group for sleeping like a rock. We all parted ways, so we could be with our respective families for Christmas.

I walked the streets, greeting all the people I knew. It was cheerful, having everybody say "Happy Christmas!" and to have everybody know me, instead of being one of a million in a huge city. I loved it.

I reached my destination, my house since I was sixteen. The first place I could ever call 'home' with a straight face.

I opened my door and sang, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christ-mas! Eve-rywhere I go!"

I was then tackled by what Paul seems to define as 'hug'. He smiled at me, and it felt nice to know that certain things never change.

Apparently, though, John didn't like my Christmas tune, because he yelled, "Not that one!" when I walked in the door (at the time, I hadn't an idea why he couldn't have spent Christmas with his own family. This, of course, was before I had met Mimi). Upstairs, I was tackled again.

"Whoa, whoa!" I said. "Single file! I know you love me, but there's a very fine line between being hugged and being mauled!" I was then hugged by a single file line.

"Holly, I can't believe it was four years ago already today when Paul found you," Paul's dad, Jim, said. "It seems like you've been part of our family forever."

"What's he talking about?" John asked.

Paul, his brother Mike, and I muttered darkly, "Don't want to talk about it."

To expel the awkward moment, I sung rather loudly. "ON THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMA-"

John yelled, "NOT THAT ONE EITHER!"

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.


	7. Chapter 7 (Revamped Chapter Seven)

_Hey, Beatle People! _

_Sorry I haven't updated lately. I was on vacation, but I'm back now! This is a cool chapter, because you get to know more about Holly's backstory (ex. why she was living with the McCartneys in Ch. 1). _

_Enough of my babbling, though, on wih the show! I present to you..._

**Chapter 7**

**Do You Want to Know a Secret?**

Christmas was wonderful, being together again. I wished we could have stayed that way forever, but New York was calling us back.

Lauren and I decided to expand the business to have a record shop in London. Now Strawberry Fields was a chain. It was decided that I would run the one in England, since Lauren likes it in America better, and most of my life is in England anyway.I bought a small flat in London, and I was really happy.

I saw the boys everyday. I attended most of their recording sessions; they had to explain to the guys there that I wasn't with any of them, so I wasn't violating the 'no girlfriends or wives' rule. Reluctantly, they let me in (after much coarse language and fighting) for creative criticism. I provided a bottomless well of it.

One day, in my new flat, which was almost worst than my American one but was all I could afford since I was a bit short on currency, unpacking, there was a loud knock on my door. I opened it, and there was John. He walked in before I could say anything.

"Hello to you too," I said cheekily.

"Holly, I have a question for you," John said, looking around.

"No, John, you're married," I said, and opened the door for him to leave, but he didn't budge.

"What a charming little home," John commented with quite a bit of sarcasm. I made a face at him.

"What d'you want?" I asked, trying to throw in as much annoyance into my voice as I felt, and threw myself into a chair.

He followed suit and asked, "Why did you move in with Paul? How was 'finding' you so significant? Didn't you have yer own family?"

I took a deep breath. I was about to share a secret that never sat well with anyone who already knew, including myself.

"When I was fifteen, my dad died. He was murdered. I was left alone with my mum; my sister's five years older than I, she was in college.

I had never really liked Mum, it was Dad I loved. Whenever I used to leave the house, she'd yell after me, 'You look like a prostitute with all that leather on!' Stuff like that. The little things

She got really depressed, and started drinking _a lot. _She bossed me around, she kicked the shit out of me, and then would go out at night and get drunk. Finally, I decided I had had enough of her crap and when I was 16, I left. Nobody knew where I was. I was on the streets for a night or so before Paul and George found me in an alley. He brought me to his house and his dad took me in, and the rest is history."

John was silent for a while. "I didn't know that about you," he said quietly.

"'Cause you met me after all the drama was over. When you met me, I was just getting used to living with the McCartneys. I don't blame you for not, no one does unless I tell them," I said.

He looked at me. "A lot of that shaped who you are, didn't it? That's why you so paranoid about letting people in. That's why you don't like people touching you unless you trust them to take a bullet for you, and why you can hold your own in a fight and you don't cry."

"I've always never cried. Always figured there was something more worthwhile to shed tears for," I explained, and stood up. "Now I feel like I'm in therapy, or something. I better get back to work," I said, walking over to the box by the door.

"No," John said. "Holl, you should move in with me and Cyn. You shouldn't have to be alone. You've done that your whole life, how 'bout a change of scenery?"

I raised my eyebrow. I didn't get it. It wasn't as if John and I were best friends; I wouldn't even have considered us _good_ friends, yet he was asking me to move in with him and his pregnant wife. It boggled my mind.

"Isn't that kind of shady? Boy asks his female friend to move in with him and his wife? You sure Cynthia wouldn't care?"

"Come on, you and Cynthia are friends! So are we. It's a favor. And have you ever looked at this place? It's like the dumpster behind the studio," John was doing a pretty good job, too.

"Shit!" I muttered. "I just bought this place and now I have to sell it!"

He grinned, "I knew you'd cave! Let's go and tell Cynthia now!"

_Why did I agree to_ this? I thought._ Stupid, stupid, stupid! _


	8. Chapter 8 (Revamped Chapter Eight)

**Chapter 8**

**Remind Me Why I Agreed To This?**

I sat at the kitchen table, as they argued over me like I was the stray dog the child brought home and wanted to keep.

"John!" Cynthia said to him like a mother might. "Are you mad? We barely have enough room in here for us! And with the baby..." John and Cynthia had recently gotten married because they had found out that Cynthia was pregnant, though John didn't seem too concerned. In fact, he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Love, soon the money will be rolling in, and Holly won't be here much, she's a working girl. Plus, she can help with the work around here."

I shot John a look that said, _She can?_ He said silently, _Just go with it__._ I was tweedling my thumbs patiently.

"You don't know if The Beatles will succeed yet!" Cynthia exclaimed, beginning to raise her voice.

_Oh trust me,_ I thought to myself. _They will_.

John was just looking at Cynthia with sad, large brown eyes. She sighed and looked at me.

"Fine!" she said, reminding me of my own mother, but I pushed the thought away. I jumped up and down.

"I'm so pleased I'm no longer homeless!" I said, clapping my hands.

Cynthia smiled at me, her smile telling me that it wasn't that she didn't want me to live there, it was that she was being the realistic one. I knew that was all she meant, and I also knew that of all of John's friends, I was her favorite.

John and I went back to my piddly-ass little flat to pack stuff up again. I felt like a gypsy, moving so much. That was something I'd often thought about. Being a gypsy, I mean. Having nothing tying you down. Except I do have things tying me down. The Beatles. Damn 'em.

"I told you so!" John told me as he walked through the door.

"And _I_ also told you that it wouldn't go over well," I pointed out.

"Shut your gob," he said, picking up a box. John's not very good at being wrong. Neither am I.

. . . .

About two weeks later, I was sitting in my room, unpacking again. I was getting good at it.

Apparently, though, John was watching me, because Cynthia wouldn't say "sexy underwear" to me, and she wasn't a Scouser.

I picked up a pair and flung them at him, and replied, "So they work, then?"

Before I knew it, I had found myself in an underwear fight with a person who a woman should never let touch their underwear.

"Seriously," I said, laughing as I stopped flinging. "I need to get this done! Stop touching my underwear!"

He flung one last pair and said, "It's your fault! You started it!"

I rolled my eyes, and pointed at the door and said, "Out."

John made his way to the door, then whirled around and flung a pair of underwear at my head. I soon got bored with doing responsible person things and just started singing with my guitar.

"Since my baby left me," I sang, working my hips like Elvis Presley. "I found a new place to dwell..." I could never decipher the words after that for some reason or another.

"That's alright mama, that's alright with you. That's alright mama, any way you do-o!" I restarted.

I heard John yell, "SHUT UP!" He must have been in the room on the other side of mine, and the house had extremely thin walls.

I grinned. "199 BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL!" I screamed, ruining what I assumed was a 'moment' with Cynthia. There was a banging on my wall.

I felt so at home that my pencil simply cannot describe it.


	9. Chapter 9 (Revamped Chapter Nine)

_Sorry that I haven't updated lately. I've just been taking a break to enjoy all of your awesome stories and write more chapters for my own story. Thanks for reading! _

_-Starkiller_

**Chapter 9 (Numbah 9... Numbah 9...****)**

**The Truth Reprised**

~1963~

Another night spent drunk with my friends. Been there so many times. It was John, Paul, Cynthia (who couldn't drink but it was her house) Ringo, I, George, Morgan (she and Lauren were there on holiday), and Lauren in that order. We were just sitting in a circle, passing a bottle around.

"What should we do?" Cynthia asked. I imagined she was probably a little left out since she couldn't have the enjoyment of being fall-down drunk. Ah, the advantages of pregnancy!

"Yeah," Ringo agreed. "I mean, I meself like a good drink, but this is a little bit boring for my taste." I smiled as an idea popped into my head.

"Wanna take a trip back to being teenagers and play Truth or Dare?" I asked, smiling devilishly, tipping back the bottle as it came around to me and passed it along to George. John's eyes lit up.

"Yeah! Let's do that! I have the sudden urge to get a bunch of dirt on Holly!" Little did that damn git know, he would. We were laughing hysterically. It had been about fifteen minutes before it was my turn to receive a dare. From John, of all people. Shit, I'm screwed.

"Holly," he said, smiling an evil John Lennon grin. "Truth or Dare?"

I stroked my chin and replied, "Truth," and took another drink. I didn't quite think I was sober enough for a dare.

"Who was your first time?" John asked. Paul's and my eyes got very wide.

"Truth or lie, Paul?" I asked him.

"I guess you have to tell the truth, won't you, Holl?" he said very, very quietly. I gulped.

"It was Paul." George spit out the alcohol he had just stole from the bottle in his hand, and started coughing. Morgan and I started whacking him on the back.

"How does that work?" Ringo asked.

"Well," I said, taking the bottle from George, tipping it back to give me some courage to tell the story. I gave it back to him, and began.

_I remember it was 1957. We were talking about what a fuss people make over their first time. _

_"I just want to get it over with," Paul said. _

_I nodded. "Yeah, me too." Then, it hit me. "Paul," I said, turning to face him. "What if we _do_ get it over with?" He looked at me. _

_"You're not suggesting that you and I... have sex?" Paul asked hesitantly. _

_"Yes," I said. "You have to admit, it's a good idea. We know each other, we like each. Just do it, forget about it, and go back to being mates. Simple."_

"So we did. And I have to say, I think that was one of my better decisions. I can't think of anyone else I'd trust with it more," I finished.

"But it was only that time," Paul reassured.

Even John looked pretty surprised, even after all the cracks he's made about me and Paul. But he never thought he would be right. They stared at us with their mouths agape. That night seems to stand out in my mind as the awkwardest moment of my life.

I had always hated Truth or Dare. And the devious mind of John Lennon.


	10. Chapter 10 (Revamped Chapter Ten)

_I'm feeling another chapter coming on, Beatle people! Enjoy!_

**Chapter 10**

**He Loves Me, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!**

John and I made our way to EMI studios after I had finished my 'chores'. The Beatles were just beginning to record their first album, _Please Please Me_. And naturally, I ended up right in the middle of it.

The band kept trying take after take of John's new song he had just written, called "Please Please Me". Finally, George Martin told them to speed up the tempo, and the song sounded much better. I had only heard the song once before, when it was being written, but they had been recording it so long I could sing "Please Please Me" word for word.

"Alright, take a break," George (Martin) said.

They took lots of breaks, because John had this horrible cold, and they had to give his voice a rest so it would last until the end of the day. During the breaks John would usually pop in a cough drop and hope for the best. That's all he could do.

I was laughing with John, Paul, and Ringo, while George (Harrison) was still messing around with his guitar.

"Hey, Holly," George said. "C' mere. I want you to hear this." I rolled my eyes. I was always and forever going to be his guitar critic, wasn't I? I excused myself from the group.

"What?" I asked him. He put his guitar down gently, and took me outside.

"Dammit, Geo, it's cold out here!" I complained. "This has nothing to do with guitars!" He nodded.

"I know," he replied.

"Well?" I asked. "What do you want?" My teeth were starting to chatter.

"I, erm," George said, trying to word his sentence properly. "I was wondering if you would be my girlfriend." There had been something slightly different between George and I lately. We had been making suggestive comments to each other, or catching each other looking at us, but the thing was that we didn't even realize we were doing it. Now it all made sense.

"Yeah," I said. "I think that would be gear."

He smiled, and kissed me. Damn good kiss, too. It was sweet and gentle; it was the first kiss I had ever had like that.

We walked back into the studio, George with my red lipstick on his lips. He must have thought about it too, because he started wiping his mouth. But he did it with a smile.

"What was that about?" Paul asked me, as I sat myself back down into my chair.

"Nothing," I said, smiling to myself.

"Good God, Paul, you're thick!" John said to him.

"I am?" Paul asked sardonically. "That's coming from John Lennon?"

John muttered "Shut up," but then said, "She's obviously dating George! He asked her out!"

Paul seemed annoyed. "What? Is that true?"

I gave him a half-smile. "Yes," I said.

"What the hell, George!" Paul yelled at George. "It's like you're dating my sister!"

I leaned over to John and whispered, "Who shit in his Corn Flakes?"

John leaned back to me and whispered back "George, apparently."

I smiled at him. "Cor, this is better than the telly!"

George was angry now. "I'm 19 years old! I can date whoever I want! Holly can too, and she wanted to date me, so stay out of it!" he yelled at Paul. I was surprised, although I stand by my earlier statement about it being interesting to watch. I had never seen them fight like this. I especially had never seen George like this.

Luckily, George (Martin) came to the rescue and called the session back in. Paul and George were glaring at each other. For most of the day, John or Paul had been singing. This time, George (Harrison) was singing. It was a song called "Do You Want To Know A Secret" that John and Paul had wrote. Back in those days, before George started writing songs, John and Paul wrote stuff for George and Ringo to sing.

"You'll never know how much I really love you," he sang, looking into my eyes. "You'll never know how much I really care." He plays his little guitar part, and sang again, "Listen, do you want to know a secret? Do you promise not to tell? Ohh... Closer, let me whisper in your ear, say the words you long to hear. I'm in love with you." He smiled at me, then looked down at his fingers sliding across the neck of the guitar. I smiled back, even if he couldn't see me. I promise not to tell...


	11. Chapter 11 (Revamped Chapter Eleven)

_I don't really want to stop the show, but I thought you might like to know that I'm really greatful for all the reviews and follows. This story has the most reviews/follows of all three of mine, so thank you. I'll stop babbling, because I know it's annoying, but seriously, thanks, bros :) _

_Without further ado..._

**Chapter 11**

**Two Of Us**

George and I were sitting on the steps of EMI, playing guitar, like we always do; thngs are always changing, but some things never do. George stopped abruptly.

"Holl," he said, and I heard him set his guitar on the concrete.

"Yes, dearest," I murmured, still plucking the strings of my guitar. I didn't know what song I was playing, but it sounded pretty cool.

"I've been thinking," he continued.

"Well, get on with it, I haven't got all bloody day!" I replied, getting into a nice groove.

"I was thinking that you and I should go out. As in go out on a date," he said, putting it all out on the line. Being future Holly now, I feel so sorry for him. There he was, putting himself out there, and I wasn't even listening.

"That's nice, dear," I muttered, still playing my guitar. He grabbed the neck of the guitar, so that all the strings would be covered, and therefore I would muff any chords I wanted to play. That bastard knows how to get my attention.

"Holly," he said, putting on his "serious Beatle" face. "I'm serious. We've been together for a month, and we haven't even gone out on a date. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I never took my girlfriend out to show her off and brag to the other blokes?" He was right. We hadn't gone on a real date yet. But it was mostly because our lives got in the way. He had The Beatles, I had Strawberry Fields. We were both workin' for da man, and there's not time to do much else when you're listening to what the man says (bad pun, I know. My razor sharp wit is leaving me in my old age).

"How does Friday night work for you?" I asked after thinking everything over.

"It works just fine. I'll get you at six," he told me.

"Gear," I said. I ripped his hand off the neck of my instrument and shook it. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Friday rolled around faster than it should've. I was sitting in the living room, all dooded up and waiting for my date. 5:50. 6:00. 6:05. Where the _fuck_ is he? George finally showed up at 6:15.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "Here I am, driving along, an this dog runs out in front of me, and I swerved and went in a ditch, so I was trying to get my car out of this muddy ditch, and finally this bloke-"

I put my finger to his lips. "I don't care," I said.

"Now, you have my girl home at nine, boy, or I'll get my gun," John said, pretending to be my father. I kicked him. "Now, get going you crazy kids!" he told us as he cracked a grin. "Have fun. But not too much fun!"

I stamped my foot. "Ooh, Daddy!" I mock-protested, and we left. "Your car looks like a piece of shit," I observed, surveying his tires.

"I know," George said. "Didn't I just tell you that?"

We arrived at the restaurant at 6:30 or so. It was nothing fancy. Just a place. Of course they gave us a window seat. _Great_! Not like George was a fucking Beatle or anything...

We were having a good time, actually. Then, out of nowhere, these fangirls are looking in the window at us, screaming, "OH MY GOD! GEORGE HARRISON!"

I wrinkled my nose slightly, a telltale sign that I was pissed. "You have to be shitting me!" George and I exclaimed at the same time. We had no time to laugh over the fact we had said the same thing at the same time, though.

"One...two...three...Run!" I exclaimed.

We exited the establishment, and then started running toward his car.

"You know," George yelled over the screaming. "When I pictured our first date, I never pictured us dine n' dashing for our lives!"

"I know!" I yelled back. "It kicks ass, right?"

"Right!" George replied.

We got in the car and drove like hell. I'm going to loathe the day that fangirls get cars. We finally reached John and Cynthia's house and parked, neither of us wanting to leave the other.

"I'm sorry about tonight," George told me, his eyes shining apologetically.

"I'm not," I replied, and I kissed him. I opened the door to get out, but George pulled me back in and kissed me a little more. Soon, it was 8:50. "George," I said, laughing. "I seriously have to go. We're really pushing it now. John'll kick your ass if I'm not in there."

His bottom lip quivered in protest, which was covered in my red lipstick. I started laughing even more; he was quite a comical picture.

"Bye," I told him, getting in one last kiss.

I walked inside, smiling to myself.

"Well?" Cynthia asked. "How'd it go?" John came in and joined us. Peachy.

"Yeah," John said. "Did that boy treat my little girl all right?" He _seriously_ wanted to play this game? Two can do that!

"Yes Daddy, Georgie is a nice boy! He wouldn't hurt me!" I protested, then addressed Cynthia. "Well, I'll give the short version: We were eating, and then we were mobbed by fangirls, and then we went dine and dashing, then we were sitting in front of your house making out for the last two hours."

"I told you not to have too much fun!" John complained.

"Oh, when have I ever listened to you?!" I scoffed.

Cyn smiled, "Sounds like you had fun, then."

Oh, it was. Very, very fun.


	12. Chapter 12 (Revamped Chapter Twelve)

_I'm on a freakin' roll! Look at me update!_

**Chapter 12**

**Yes, We're Going to a Party, Party!**

Now, normally, I'm not a huge fan of holidays, but I was definitely looking forward to the New Year. First of all, Cynthia, John, and I had a really gear New Year's Eve Party planned. Second of all, it simply was a night to go get really drunk. And drunk is fun, omitting the nasty hangover in the morning and finding out all of the weird things you did the night before. I was also excited because Morgan and Lauren were planning on coming home to England for John and Cynthia's party. Now, we had been planning on going to Brian Epstein's (I called him 'Eppy') house for a party, because Brian always threw these killer parties durung these occassions, but we decided to test our skills and throw one of our own. What's the worst that could happen, right?

"Okay, we should have people in charge of a certain area critical to the party, that way it's done faster," Cynthia said.

"I'll be in charge of the alcohol," I volunteered instantly.

Cynthia rolled her eyes, but put me on the list. "I'll be in charge of food," Cynthia said. "And John will be...?"

I snorted. "Probably in charge of taking a nap and eating," I said, rolling my eyes.

He stuck his tongue out at me. "Guest list and getting Morgan and Lauren from the airport?" he offered.

"John, you don't have your driver's licence," I reminded him.

"Nobody needs to know that..." he replied.

"Ok, John's in charge of people," Cynthia said, writing down his name.

"HOLD IT!" I yelled suddenly.

"What?" Cynthia asked.

"We forgot somebody!" I said.

"Who?" Cynthia asked in a confused tone. She had been so sure that she was on top of everything.

"What's Julian in charge of?" I asked in a completely serious tone. "

Being cute and crying if one of the fellas attempts to pick him up," John said.

"Ok, we're good," I said in relief.

. . . .

**December 30th, 1963. 7:00 PM**

"Where are you going?" Cynthia asked as I walked out the door with my coat in hand.

"Going to buy booze for tomorrow with Ring," I called back, my hand on the doorknob.

"You mean you haven't gotten any yet?" she exclaimed.

"That's why I am now, silly!" I answered. She shook her head at me, reminding me of some kid from school.

I arrived back at about nine with one full bottle of whiskey, one half empty bottle of whiskey, some Scotch, Coke, and a bottle of wine.

"Why is one half empty?" Cynthia asked, gesturing to the uncorked bottle in my right hand. "Well, for a couple of alcohol enthusiasts such as us, it was torture to look at all that booze, so we had to buy a bottle for ourselves," I explained.

She shook her head at me. Again.

At ten, I was sitting happily on the couch with my empty bottle of whiskey, looking at all of the shapes dancing on the ceiling. The phone began ringing. I got up and answered it, and tried not to slur my words.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hi!" said Morgan with her Morgan cheer.

"What's up? When are you flying in?" I asked excitedly.

"Well, about that..." Morgan trailed off. "New York just got a huge snowfall. Our flight was canceled. I don't know if we'll make it on time, because we have to reschedule our flight."

Great. Just fucking _fantastic_.

"Oh. So I bought all this booze for nothing?" I asked, trying to make it kind of funny so she wouldn't feel bad, because if I knew Morgan at all, she felt terrible. Not because she wasn't coming home, but because she was disappointing me and not being able to come to the party.

"No," she said. "Save some for us when we get there!"

I shook my head. "With me and Ring there, not a chance!" I could hear her smiling on the other end.

"Gotta go. Bye!" my friend said, and hung up.

"Bye," I said sadly. Being drunk wasn't so much fun now.

**December 31st, 1963. 6:00 PM**

The party just didn't seem as fun. I really had been looking forward to seeing them again. I only got to see Morgan and Lauren a few times a year, after all. But, I still went (kinda hard when you live there, isn't it?), being the good friend I am.

I stood by the wall with my whiskey, watching people file in. John, God bless his stupid heart, went to the airport, because nobody had told him that Morgan and Lauren weren't going to be able to make it.

George stood by me with his own drink. He took my prolonged silence as a cue to pry, "You really are depressed that they can't come, aren't you?"

I nodded. "Well, I guess I wouldn't normally admit this, but as much as I like hanging out with The Beatles, I get a little sick of being 'one of the guys'. So that's why I'm friends with Morgan and Lauren. And I only get to see them a few times a year because I left America to come here."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I guess I see what you mean. Anything I can do to make it better?" George asked, being the good and caring boyfriend he was.

"I can think of about two things, the first would definitely get my mind off it, but you wouldn't want to do that. The second one you can do a little easier, which is refill my drink when I ask until I get so drunk that I won't remember any of this in the morning," I said.

His eyebrows furrowed. "What's the first thing?"

I kind of looked around, and then beckoned him to come closer. I whispered into his ear.

He smiled devilishly (it's the quiet ones, y'know...). "I could do that one." I gave him a 'look'.

"Yeah, but I decided I'm going to take it slow in this relationship, since that's what fucked up my other ones, so... no."

His smile turned sweet and caring. "I thank you for your concern, but you know why that wouldn't screw up _our_ relationship?" I shook my head. "Because I love you," he said, and kissed me.

"I love you too," I whispered, but then ruined the moment and shoved my glass into his hand and said, "Ok, Lover, please get me some alcohol." I really should learn to leave a tender moment alone. He stuck his tongue out at me, but obliged.

John strolled through the door with two women in tow, one with curly brown hair who was unusually tall, and the other with blonde hair that hadn't been brushed lately, which she had tied up in a ponytail. I was about to yell to John something cheeky, like, _Who cheats on their wife when she's still in the bloody house?!_, but then I noticed that those two women were not John's potential mistresses (although that's not to say that he wouldn't try), but my own two best friends, Morgan and Lauren.

"HEY!" I yelled, and ran over to them.

"Sure, no hello for John," John grumbled. "_I'm _just the chauffeur."

"Thank you, John Boy," I obliged.

"Yeah," He said. "And you owe me. I couldn't find them for the longest time. I almost left those two at the airport!"

I raised my eyebrow. "What do I owe you?"

He stroked his chin. That's _never _a good thing. "I can think of about 10 things you could owe me if I wasn't married, but I think either a drink or a dance will suffice."

I shook my head, laughing. "You can drag your lazy ass over to get a drink, so I'll give you a dance."I smiled apologetically at Lauren and Morgan, who were gesturing for me to get the dance over with.

We waited for a fast tune to play, and we danced our little hearts out. John spun me, which landed me in George's arms. I was confused as hell, but I kept dancing. What the hell, I was drunk, so why the fuck not?

At 11:50, the music stopped abruptly. John, Paul, George, and Ring stood at the front of the room, facing all us commoners.

"ATTENTION!" They yelled together, but two people were still chatting away, to which John yelled, "SHADDUP!" They looked at him with their full, undivided attention.

"Me and the band would first like to thank 1963 for the luck-" -He looked at them- "Right?" -They nodded- "And before we make our announcement, we would like to take the liberty of thanking some people who stood by us and helped us along on our way. I would like to thank my beautious wife, Cynthia," he said, showing us the sappy John that rarely ever shows his face anywhere but the bedroom. Cynthia blushed.

"I'd like to thank Brian Epstein, who never stopped believing in us," Paul said.

"I'd like to thank Eppy as well, along with my lovely girlfriend, Holly," George said, looking at me. _Why'd he have to mention me?!_ I thought. _I did nothing!_

"I'd like to thank my girl Maureen, and, well, these three blokes, who thankfully had a shittier drummer than I and wouldn't get their record deal if they didn't replace him," Ringo said. Everyone laughed.

They glanced at the clock (11:58).

"So," John said again. "Here's our announcement:" -they all shouted it together- "WE"RE MAKING A MOVIE IN 1964!"We all cheered and started counting down to 1964.

"10...9...8..7...6...5...4...3...2...1... HAPPY NEW YEAR!" we all shouted together.

If only I had known ahead of time what adventures awaited me in 1964.


	13. Chapter 13 (Revamped Chapter Thirteen)

_Disclaimer: I forgot to add it, but let's face it,'til I marry into the Beatles family (my friend's mom says I should aspire to marry Paul McCartney's grandson), I haven't any rights._

**Chapter 13**

**The First Time (For George and I, At Least)**

The first day the boys were scheduled to film for A Hard Day's Night, Cynthia and I got to come. All of us were so excited. We looked like a bunch of six year olds hopped up on candy. It was pretty interesting.

When Cynthia and I stepped on set, one of the people looked us down and asked, "Is it possible for you two to be extras?"

Cynthia, John, George, and I shared a look that said, _What the hell? _

I asked, "What scenes could we potentially be in?"

He looked at a clipboard and replied, "We need one of you for the train scene, and one for the scene where they escape answering fan mail and go dancing instead."

I looked at Cynthia, who nodded. "We'll do it. But I call the dancing one!" I answered for both of us.

Cynthia and I shook his hand, and he said, "Welcome to A Hard Day's Night! Well, we won't need you yet." He pointed at me.

"My name is Holly, in case you wanted to know for future reference," I told him patiently.

"Right, Holly, we won't need you for a little while, but you." He pointed at Cynthia.

"I"m Cynthia," she said.

"Cynthia, we could use you soon, so stand by," he corrected himself.

Then he stole our men so they could go shoot the scenes they needed before they needed Cynthia, and left Cynthia and I alone.

"Well, damn! Today must be my day!" I said excitedly.

"Yeah. Definitely didn't expect that!" Cynthia agreed.

A while later, the man (he called himself Danny) came back for Cynthia, so she could put on her costume.

When she came back from shooting, I asked her, "Is it hard?"

She shook her head and smiled. "No, it's actually pretty easy. All I really had to do was sit on a train and giggle," she reassured me.

"Easy for you to say!" I exclaimed. "The whole world is going to see me dance!"

"Holly, you're a good dancer! I don't see what you're worried about," Cynthia said matter-of-factly.

"Honestly, I don't either," I replied.

"You must hang out with men too much, because you're getting harder and harder to figure out," Cynthia said, shaking her head.

"Uh, Holly?" Danny's voice said from behind me. "We need you now. I'll tell you what you're supposed to do on your way to hair and make-up."

I looked at him, terrified. "M-make-up?" I squeaked. What was wrong with how I looked? I mean, I didn't over do it or anything. Red lipstick and eyeliner. I thought I looked good!

"Yeah. It'll be fine," Danny reassured me. "They just want to soften up your image."

"I guess I can't argue with that logic," I agreed with a smile.

He explained what I had to do. Basically I got to dance with George until The Beatles' fictional manager (I didn't know why they couldn't just use Eppy, but I'm not Dick Lester, so...) came and caught them.

I got to hair and make-up, and Danny left me. The lady (I think her name was Audrey. She was a real old bird.) looked at me in the mirror.

"Good Lord, girl, _why _on earth would you wear make-up like this?" I looked up at her.

"'Cause I'm a Teddy Girl, and that's what we look like," I replied.

"Well, we'll have to fix that!" Audrey said. "Would it be possible for me to cut your hair so it is even length?"

I fought the urge to punch her. "Uh, sure?" I replied, unsure.

"Splendid!" she exclaimed.

I closed my eyes, afraid of what she might do to me.

About thirty minutes later, Audrey said, "You may open your eyes now."

I did. I didn't look bad per se, but I thought it was ghastly. Straight, even hair (EEK!), and light pink lips.

"Bloody hell!" I exclaimed. "You know what you're talkin' 'bout!"

She smiled. "You like it?"

I looked at her. "No, I think it's disgusting, but you're good at your job!"

She shook her head. "You better go to the costume department now, right next door," She said.

"Thanks," I said.

I found my way there.

"Ah, yez, Mizz McFarlane," A foreign lady named Natalia said. "Your drezz is over here somewhere, designed it myzelf..."

She disappeared into the next room. "Ah, yez, here it is! I knew it was here somewhere!"

We somehow managed to get me in the dress (it obviously wasn't designed for me, I was no stick).

"You better get going, Mizz!" Natalia said. "You do not want to be late!"

Danny reappeared to take me to the place we would be shooting at.

"Lookin' good," Danny said with a smirk.

"Shut up," I said. We got there, and I called, "Oh, Georgia!"

He turned around. "Good God," George exclaimed. "Who kidnapped my girlfriend?!"

"Yeah, that's what I said," I said.

"I mean, it's not that you look bad, just overly feminine, and-"

"Just shut up," I told him.

"Ok," George said.

"OK!" A guy yelled (I didn't get his name, sorry). "3...2...1... ACTION!"

We did our thing, until he yelled, "OK, THAT WAS GOOD. THANK YOU!"

After a long day, George and I collapsed at his house.

"Dear Lord, I need a drink," he said to no one in particular as he wandered into the kitchen.

"Dear Lord, I need to get fucked, or something," I said.

That got his attention. "What happened to 'taking it slow'?" George asked.

"Me and celibacy have never seen eye-to-eye," I explained my change of heart.

"Point taken," He replied, and we ran, lips locked together, to the bedroom, and shut the shades.

...

"George Harrison, I will never look at you in the same light again," I sighed happily.

"Jesus Christ," George said. "I could use some more of that!"

I smiled at him. Then, there was a knock at the door. We looked at each other.

"123 NOT IT!" George yelled.

I growled. "Dammit Geo, where's my shirt?" I said, looking around the floor of strewn-about clothes.

"You mean this one?" He asked, holding up my shirt, which now sported a large rip down the back.

"Yes!" I said.

"Here, borrow mine," George said.

"God, why don't we just write 'I just had sex' on my forehead," I grumbled, but put it on. I made my way to the front door and opened it. "What?!" I asked. It was John. "Oh, good God!" We both exclaimed. I must have been a sight. Frizzy hair, only wearing a white button-down shirt. "What the hell do you want?!" I yelled, annoyed.

"A drink?" he said.

"GEO!" I yelled up the stairs. He made his way down. There was no hiding it now. George was standing next to me, his moptop haircut a mess, no shirt, because I was wearing it.

"What do you want, John?" George answered in an annoyed tone, like I had.

"Drink," John said again.

"You couldn't have picked a more inconvenient time," George said. "I can tell, and I'm going now," John answered.

"Wait," I said. "You can't drive. Who brought you here?"

"Paul and Ringo?" John said.

"Oh, Jesus, please save me," I prayed.

"Get out," George said.

"Gladly," John said, and left.

"Well," I said, slamming the door. "That was awkward."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I finally married my McCartney grandson ;)!**

_I'm on a roll! _

**Chapter 14**

**She's Leaving Home**

After our 'first time', George and I were almost inseparable. I spent the night at his house at least 4 nights out of 7. Even some of my clothes started turning up there. On one of the 3 nights I wasn't there, George called me, because we always missed each other terribly. I felt so weird. I had never had a really serious boyfriend like this, where it felt as if the sky was falling if George wasn't there. "Holly, I've been thinking," He said. "Oh, I hate it when you think," I joked. "I'm serious this time," George said. "Lord help us," I prayed. "Holly," He said, his voice was underlined with annoyance. "Fine, I'll be serious," I promised. "Well, I noticed that you've been sleeping here a lot lately," George started. "No kidding?" I said. "I decided that when I was folding laundry the other day, and I was coming across a bunch of your, erm, _undergarments_," George said, and something said he wasn't kidding. "That explains why I can't find any of my good bras anymore!" I exclaimed. "Anyroad, I was wondering if you would come live with me," He finished. "Why wouldn't I?" I asked sarcastically. "Well, pack up, then!" He commanded. "Yes Drill Sergeant!" I answered. "Love you," He said. "Love you too," I replied, then hung up. "Oh John Boy!" I yelled. "John Boy's wife! Where are you?" "HOLLY!" He yelled back, and practically _sprinted_ to my room. "Is my little girl all right? Is anything broken?" He asked, and started touching my arms and legs to make sure nothing was in fact broken in my body. Cynthia came in just as he was grabbing my thigh, to make sure my leg wasn't broken. "What the hell is going on here?" Cynthia asked from the door. "Your husband is checking me for broken bones," I replied. "What did you need us for?" She asked. "Um... I needed to ask you something," I said. "Sure, what?" Cynthia asked. "Er, I was thinking of moving out," I said. "Where?" John asked. "Uh, George asked me to move in with him," I replied. "See, Ma, I said that boy was nothing but trouble!" John exploded. "And premarital sex is a sin!" I scoffed. "The reason you two are married is because of premarital sex!" "John, has it ever occurred to you that Holly is 22 years old?" Cynthia asked him. John ignored her. "Is that ok with you guys?" I asked. "Yes," Cynthia said, and smiled. "It was fun having you." John smiled a little. "Yeah. Make sure when I visit, it isn't like last Friday," He teased. "Shut your damn gob!" I yelled at him. "What happened on Friday?" Cynthia asked, unknowing. "I stopped by George's place for a drink after filming, and Holly answered the door, and man, they should have written 'I had sex' all over her face!" John exclaimed, revealing our embarrassing moment. Cynthia tried to contain her laughter for my sake. I kicked John. "Do you really need to announce it to the world whenever I have sex?!" I yelled at him, annoyed. "I'm sorry, sort of," John said. He put a hand on my arm. "Eh, see you 'round, mate?" I smiled. "Yeah," I said. "Wait, could you keep this as my room? I might come stay here from time to time." Cynthia nodded. "Definitely." I smiled. They left my room, so I could attempt to pack up. I looked around my now empty room. 1 bed. One empty dresser. 1 bedside table. Dozens of memories. I could almost still see me and John having an underwear fight, or playing guitar. I could see cigarette smoke pouring out the window as I tried to get away with smoking in the house. Laying on the bed, talking for hours about everything. I walked out with my possessions in my father's old army backpack. I almost always carried it, because it had a huge capacity. It usually just held guitar picks and spare strings. Money, when I had it. "Well, farewell," I said when I got out of my room. John dropped me off at George's (even though he STILL didn't have a driver's license!). "Welcome!" George said, as if I had never been there. "Thank you?" I said uncertainly. He helped me unpack, until we had ANOTHER underwear fight. Then George was banished, until I was finished. After I was all moved in, we went out to dinner, to celebrate my arrival at the house. Finally, it was bedtime. I slept on the right side, George on the left. "Good night, Geo," I whispered. "Good night, love," George whispered back. Then, I fell blissfully asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

_I couldn't help myself. I wanted to have this up, because the next chapter is really important!_

__**Chapter 15:**

**My New Companion**

After "Please Please Me" was finished, I was no longer allowed to sit in during recording sessions, because that would be violating the "No Girlfriends or Wives" rule. I was a wee bit lonely at home by myself. I only had to go into Strawberry Fields for a few hours, because by now, as the leading provider of Beatles music, we had made a little bit of pocket money, and Lauren and I were able to hire staff. One night, George and I were eating, and I proposed an idea. "Geo?" I asked. "Yeah?" He replied, still scarfing down food. "How did you feel before I moved in when I wasn't here?" I asked. "Like the world might stop turning. Why?" He answered. "Because I was wondering if we could get a dog. To keep me company during the day," I replied. George furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?" "Well, before we were a thing, I was with you guys all day, but now I'm here a lot of the time, so I get sort of lonely," I said. He nodded. "But a dog is a lot of work, and you still are gone for a portion of the day. Something a little more self-reliant?" George said. "A kitty?" I asked. "Sure," George said. "We'll get you a cat this weekend." The weekend came fast. We strolled into the pet store, and I looked at the puppies in front. They all nibbled at my fingers. A lady with bright red hair and freckles came over to George and asked "Can I help you?" I stood up, and interrupted him. "Do you by chance have any kittens?" I asked. George furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, speaking to me in our silent language. _Kitten?_ He asked. _Yes, love. Wishing you had got me a dog, aren't you?_ I said with a small smile. We followed her to a small basket in the back. It was crawling with kittens. She smiled. "These little guys were born only just week ago." I bent down and scooped one up, who had escaped his imprisonment in the basket. "Are they from the same litter?" I asked, stroking my little kitten. He had white poofy fur with little black spots all over. He was the smallest in the litter. "Yes," She answered. George was holding one in his right hand now. This one had orange fur. He was absently stroking her as he asked "What happened to their mother?" The woman frowned. "She left after they were born. She must have scooted out the door when one of us were leaving." We nodded. "This one?" I asked George, trying to pull my finger out of his mouth. George looked down at his, who purring loudly, making her sound like a car motor. "I don't know, I'm kind of partial to this one," He said. "Both?" I asked. "Sure," He answered. Ten minutes later, we walked out of the pet store with two kittens, and a shitload of pet supplies. We were driving down the road, me holding both of them. "What are you going to name yours?" I asked, playing with them. "Tangerine, I think," George replied. "Yours?" "I was debating between Jefferson, Jarvis, Ebenezer, or Little Guy," I said with a completely straight face. "Holly, if we ever have children, you are going to be completely excluded from the naming process," George informed me. "Little Guy it is, then," I said, pulling his tail gently, which produced a loud "MEW!" of protest. We got home, and set them in their new home. Tangerine and Little Guy didn't know what to think. Our house was twice as big as the small pet store they were used to. Then, after the shock wore off, they began to wrestle. "I am going to _love this_," I said to George. "Yeah, better then that stuff on the telly," George said. We collapsed in bed, with the two little furballs at the end of the bed.


	16. Chapter 16

_Here's the important chapter I was talking about last chapter. _

**Chapter 16**

**Cry Baby Cry**

The Boys were filming "A Hard Day's Night", leaving Cynthia and I alone at the Lennon's. It was one of those nights where I had known that George was going to leave early and get back late, so I would just stay with Cyn and Jules. I had just gotten out of bed at about 8:30 AM. "Aw, fuck," I said, stumbling out into living room. "Good morning to you too," Cynthia replied. Then she surveyed my expression. "What's wrong?" She asked. I threw myself into a chair. "I don't know!" I exclaimed. "I've felt like shit for about a week, and I don't know why!" She seemed deep in thought. Cynthia sat down next to me. "Like shitty how?" She asked. "I don't know, I'm starving but I feel like puking, and everything hurts, I can't get any sleep, that sort of thing," I answered, trying to remember everything. Her eyes widened. "Holly," Cynthia said calmly. "You and George haven't, erm, _done_ anything lately, have you?" I slapped my hand to my forehead. Yes. Many times. "You think I'm... Pregnant?!" I couldn't seem to wrap my head around it. I mean, we had never thought that I might get pregnant. In the moment, you really don't worry about that sort of thing. I mean, does it really cross your mind when you're having _amazing _sex with _George Harrison_? Besides, I usually let George handle all of the details. "It's only a mere suggestion," Cynthia reassured me. "Well, have you?" I felt like crying. "Yes," I said, very quietly. "What do think?" Cynthia asked. "I think you're probably right, being a woman who has a baby and everything," I said. "We should probably find out." Cynthia nodded, knowing what it felt like, to have a potential unplanned pregnancy staring you in the face. "You should probably tell George, you know," She said. My eyes widened. "No! I mean, we don't even know if I am yet, and he'll probably leave me if I'm knocked up! Who wants to deal with that? He's a Beatle, for Christ sake!" I exclaimed. She smiled. "That's what I thought John would do, but he didn't leave. I'll make you a deal: I'll call the doctor's, you call George. Deal?" I wrinkled my nose. "He'll probably call me after they're done filming," I grumbled. "At least call Brian and tell him to make sure George calls," Cynthia made me promise. "Fine," I grumbled. "I'll call Eppy." I got on the phone, and dialed Brian's number, praying he was at home. "Hello?" He answered. "Hey, Eppy," I said. "Oh, hello Holly, what do you need?" Brian asked. "I need you to make sure that George calls me after they're done filming today, okay?" I said, trying not to sound like I was going to die. Which I was. "Alright. Might I ask why?" Brian asked again. I felt terrible. I could hear Cynthia telling them my information. "Holly McFarlane, June 24th, 1942, 5'6", 110 pounds," She was saying. "Um, I'm sorry, but it's sort of personal, it's just kind of necessary for George to know," I said. "Alright, if you say so," He answered. I hung up. The phone rang again almost instantly afterwards. "Hello?" I answered. "Eppy said to call. Is everything all right?" George. "Sort of," I said, looking back at Cynthia, who was futilely trying to convince the person on the phone that I was not the same Holly McFarlane who was Beatle George Harrison's girlfriend. "Holly," George said calmly, as if he was talking to a child. "Tell me what's wrong." I bit my lip. "Remember , when was it, the weekend before last? Maybe last night too? " I said. "Where are you going with this?" George asked me, sounding slightly irritated. "Cynthia thinks I'm..." I tried to make my lips form the word. "Pregnant." There was a pause for a brief moment or two. "And what do you think?" George replied very quietly, living up to his nickname as the 'Quiet Beatle'. "I think she's right," I said. "She made me an appointment." "When? I'll be there," George said. "No! It ...just won't work well. Cynthia already had a row with the man on the phone trying to convince him I wasn't the same Holly McFarlane who was George Harrison's girlfriend," I said, knowing this would happen. "But-" He started. "George, please," I pleaded. I could hear Paul reasoning with him on the other end. "Fine," He said, but he still sounded as if he wanted it to be otherwise. "I love you," I said sadly. "I love you," He said, and hung up.

George Harrison's POV

I hung up the phone, and ran my fingers through my hair, while John and Paul looked at me with something that looked like..._Sympathy_? Boy, I never thought I would see the day. "I think I need a smoke, a bottle of booze, or both," I said. Then Ringo, bless his heart, walked out of the bathroom, having missed the entire thing. He saw us, and said "Ok. I think I'm missing something here." When I didn't answer, Paul said "Holl just called and said she thinks she may be pregnant." Ringo looked at me and said "God, George, you look like you need a drink." I looked at him, still running my hands through my hair. "Yeah," I said. "I probably do." "I could help you with that," Ringo said. "Please do," I replied.

Holly McFarlane's POV

Cynthia and I were sitting in the waiting room, and I was nervously nibbling my fingers. "Don't worry," Cynthia said with a smile. "I'm probably wrong." I looked at her. "Don't I wish. There's just something in my head that says you're right." A man walked through the door. "Holly McFarlane?" He called. Cynthia squeezed my hand. "Don't worry," She said, but she seemed less sure of herself then the first time she said it. I stood up. "Hey," He said. "You're not the-" "No, I'm not with George Harrison," I muttered. He led me to a room, and told me to sit down, and that a chick named Bonnie would be in soon. Soon, a plump woman I figured was Bonnie came through the door. "How are we doing today?" She asked with a smile. I smiled half-heartedly back. "I can honestly say I've been better," I replied. She held out a cup with my name printed on it. "I think this is sort of self explanatory." I took it from her. "I believe so."


	17. Chapter 17

_I simply couldn't wait any longer! I had to give you this before I collapsed of extreme exhaustion!_

**Chapter 17**

**Oh, Dear, What Can I Do?**

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckityfuck!" I screamed after I got off the phone. "What?" Cynthia asked, having heard my battle-cry. "My test results are in," I growled. "Well?" Cynthia asked. "You aren't, are you?" I hung my head. "Well, if I wasn't, I probably would be jumping up and down and singing, instead of screaming 'fuck' over and over." Cynthia covered her mouth and pulled me into a hug. "Oh my God," She said. "When I said that, I kept hoping I was wrong, hoping it wasn't true." I half-smiled, but it was hollow. "Yeah," I said. "Me too." Cynthia pulled away. "I'm going to help you through this," She said. "Like you helped me when I went through this last year." I smiled (not so hollow this time). "Thanks, Cyn. I hate to break up this reassuring moment, but I have a few calls to make." I ran into my room, and picked up the phone. 3 calls. Who goes first? "Hello?" "Morgs!" I said. "Long time, no hear!" She exclaimed. "What goes on?" I drew in a deep breath. "Well, turns out I'm knocked up, apparently, but nothing else of significance." She gasped. "Please tell me you're shitting me!" She yelled. "Don't I wish," I said. Call 2. "What?!" "Hello, Lauren, nice to hear you too," I said. "Oh, it's you! I thought it was- Never mind. What's up?" "Apparently I'm pregnant, but that's about it," I said casually. "Holly," Lauren said calmly. "I thought I taught you to use protection!" I rolled my eyes. Call 3. "Hello?" "Hey," I said. "Hello, love," George said. "Just wanted to call and say my test results were in." This was going to be the hardest call. I could hear screaming in the backround. Was Ringo chasing John- Wait, I don't want to know. "Oh, yeah?" He said. I could tell he was still trying keep his voice casual. "Please tell me this is good news," George pleaded with me. "It's pretty crappy news, then, if you want good news," I said. "Oh God," George said. "I pretty much had the same reaction, except I yelled 'fuck' repeatedly," I said. "What're we going to do, love?" I asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "I'll think of something, love," He reassured me. "I gotta go before these idiots destroy the house." Sure enough, I heard something fall and break off a table in the backround, and George yell at them. That better not be those damn flowers. I didn't leave my room at all that day, with the exception of bathroom breaks and to go eat. I remember sitting on the floor, numbly picking my guitar strings, and singing softly to "In Spite Of All The Danger". I'd always liked that song, I wish they had recorded it when Beatlemania ensued. There was a knock on the door. "Come in," I said numbly. The door opened. John. He sat down next to me on the floor. "Hi," I said, still plucking my guitar strings. "I heard it from George," He said quietly. "Word travels fast in London, apparently," I said, starting to change my song from "In Spite Of All The Danger" to that one part in "And I Love Her". Suddenly, John ripped my guitar out of my hands, and pulled me to my feet, and- and he _hugged_ me. I realized that I had known John for 6 years (even though it seemed like more, we've all been through so much together), and we had never hugged. Ever. "Oh, Holl, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He murmured into my shoulder. "Yeah, me too," I said. We stood like that for what seemed to be forever, and it felt good.


	18. Chapter 18

_Hey Beatle People, I'm back with Chapter 18! Hey ho, here we go!_

**Chapter 18**

**Tomorrow Never Knew**

After my pregnancy thing leaked out, my life didn't seem to get any less strange, although I did stop moping around, and accepted there was a small Geo in me somewhere. I remember it was a typical day in the life of Holly McFarlane, which included getting the mail. I always joked with George that we should have two mailboxes, one for me, and one for all the fanmail. "Bills, bills, birthday card from my doctor, good job idiots, my birthday is nowhere near now, Holly McFarlane," I said, pulling the last one out. The return address was "Erin Murray, Pennsylvania, USA". Never heard of her. Hmmm... I shelled it open fast, like a birthday present. I was fairly shocked at it's contents. "_Dear Holly, I know we have never met, but my name is Erin (as you can tell by the return address). I knew your father when he was stationed out here. I was 18 when we met. We were lovers, and he talked very fondly of you and your sister, especially you. He adored you. I was sorry to hear about his death. When he left to go home to Liverpool, I discovered_ _I was pregnant. Now, my son Alex is 16. Your father never knew of him. He recently learned about who his father really was and his British sisters. He wants to know more then I can tell him, dince I don't know very much about you or your sister. I was wondering if it would be ok if he came to visit you in Britain. I know you have a very busy life, but it would be wonderful to get Alex out of here for a while. He's a good kid with the knack of getting into trouble and a tendancy towards verbally abusing people. He is a very talented musician, and I understand you are as well. Alex was over the moon when I got him a Rickenbacker for Christmas. "Just like George Harrison's!" He exclaimed. Now, he plays Beatle music on guitar from 6 AM to 10 PM, and its driving me crazy! Please write us back with your response. Sincerely, Erin Murray and Alex McFarlane" _I was amazed. I never would have thought that my father would have an affair. Although, knowing my mother, I couldn't have blamed him. But she wasn't completely mad and alcholic then. Oh, well. I called Brian. "Hello?" "Hey, Eppy!" I said. "Hello, Holly," He said. "What do you need?" I played with the phone cord on my finger. "I just need you to make sure that George calls me after the session, or filming, or whatever they're doing. I never know these things," I replied. "Sure. Everything is alright?" He asked. I nodded, as if I was talking to him in person. "Oh, yeah, we just need to discuss something," I reassured. "Alright, I'll make sure he gets the message," Brian said. "Thanks," I said, and hung up. George called me ten minutes later. "Is everything ok? You aren't pregnant again?" He said, speaking faster than normal. I laughed, and picked up Little Guy. "That isn't physically possible, love." He sounded confused. "Then why did you call?" He asked. "Just come home. It'll be easier to explain," I said. I could hear John making fun of George in the backround, and George telling him to shut up. "Holly," George said, sounding like he was getting frustrated. "Tell me now." I sighed. "Ok. I got this letter from a woman who said that my dad had an affair with her, and she got knocked up. I have a half-brother named Alex, and she wants to know if he can visit us," I explained. "I want to read the letter," He said. "Ok," I said. "I gotta go, I feel the need to puke." "Love you." "Same."

...

George walked in the door as I was brushing my teeth. "Where is it?" He asked. "On the counter in the kitchen," I replied, stepping out of the bathroom. He read it, his eyebrows furrowed. "Seems legitimate," George said. "Your brother's signature reminds me of yours, you both must get it from your dad. Ha, that's funny, you both put a lightning bolt at the end." I bit my lip. "So?" I asked. "Can he come?" George nodded. "Sure." I got to work on my reply back. "_Dear Erin and Alex, We have George's stamp of approval on a visit. I can't wait to meet you, Alex. Cor, I always wanted a brother instea of that stupid sister I got stuck with! I'm looking forward to playing some good guitar with you and the boys (by the boy I mean The Beatles). I haven't been able to play with anybody for a while, things have been pretty mad- guess you'd say crazy, wouldn't you? here lately. See you soon! Love from Holly McFarlane and George Harrison. (PS, In case you're thick, bring the guitar.)"_


	19. Chapter 19 (Revamped Chapter Nineteen)

_Chapter 19, in which Holly's half-brother Alex McFarlane is introduced. Enjoy._

**Chapter 19**

**These Are My People**

George and I were on our way to the airport to pick up my brother. We were standing there, waiting for his flight to get in. "

Do you even know what Alex looks like?" George asked me skeptically.

"Er, I figured I'd look for a guy who looks like a younger version of my dad?" I answered.

"Probably our best bet," George said.

Then, I saw a guy who looked about sixteen in the crowd who he looked like he was looking for something he couldn't see. He looked just like my father, except his eyes were green instead of blue. He obviously was trying to go for the Beatles mop-top, but it was just a bit shaggier than the boys' cuts. He wore a black t-shirt and a necklace with a guitar pick on it. In his hand was a case that belonged to a Rickenbacker.

"Alex!" I called, and I caught his attention. He rushed over to us, and pointed at me.

"Are you Holly McFarlane?" I nodded. His voice sounded American, with just a borderline Liverpudlian accent strung in it, which came out during certain words.

"Well, I guess you're my sister, then," Alex said, then hugged me awkwardly. I grinned as I looked from him to George.

"I probably don't need to introduce you, but Alex McFarlane, this is my boyfriend George Harrison," I said when he pulled away. They shook hands.

"I half-thought you were joking when there was 'George Harrison' signed at the end," Alex said in disbelief.

"Good to know you trust your sister," I joked.

"Hey, I didn't know you yet," Alex defended himself. God, even his _voice_ sounded like Dad's.

"Let's get out of here," George said. With that, we left for home. When we arrived, I told Alex where his room was.

"Down the hall, first on the left. I gotta puke, then I have to feed the cats, so you're stuck with Geo," I said. I walked off, and Alex must have inquired quietly about why I would be so casual about that, because I heard George explaining our predicament.

"Holy shit, how old is she?!" Alex exclaimed. "Twenty two," George said.

"Christ, that would have been good to know earlier," Alex mumbled. I stumbled out while brushing my teeth. "Did you forget to tell me anything?" Alex asked me when I came out.

"No, I think that Geo has it covered," I quipped. He rolled his eyes.

I poured the food for the kitties, and introduced them. "Oh, these are the kitties, that one is Little Guy, he's mine, and there's Tangerine, she belongs to George," I said to Alex. Then I addressed the cats: "Ok, you guys, this is Alex, and he's gonna be hanging out with us for a while, kind of like the boys, but more long-term, so be nice." He gave Tangerine a pat on the head. I stood up and said, "Ok, you and me have to go."

Alex furrowed his eyebrows. "Go? We just got here!" he exclaimed.

"Do you want to meet my sister or not?" I asked.

His eyes lit up. "Oh. Well, yeah, sure," Alex answered.

We hopped in the car, me behind the wheel. The radio sprung to life as soon as I turned the keys. We drove down the road, both of us singing.

"She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah! With a love like that, you know you should be glad!" we sang together.

"What's your sister's name?" Alex asked as his fingers absentmindedly played the invisible chords of "She Loves You".

"We call her Britt," I answered.

"Does she like music too?" he asked.

"Sort of. She's about 5 years older than me, so I'm much more into it than she is. She always was the more practical one, though. While she went to college, I was in New York opening a record shop," I answered.

"Oh."I could tell he had already decided I was the cool sister. Score.

We pulled in, and put her in park. My sister must have seen us from the window, because she came rushing out to meet us. She hugged me, and noticed Alex, and shook his hand. Her husband must have left with their children, so we could be alone. They got acquainted, and I ended up reminiscing with my sister about our childhood when Alex asked about our upbringing (age 15 for me and beyond was left untouched). We were still wiping the tears of laughter away when I asked what Alex's childhood was like.

"Oh, mine was pretty fun. I was born when my mother was about 18, so she was into the Rock and Roll scene. Mom never dated anybody when Dad left, she raised me as a single parent. She always tried to get me into sports, but music was much more interesting than fottball or whatever. She did cajole me into baseball, though. I like fishing, too. I got to hear cool stuff like Elvis Presley, Little Richard, and Buddy Holly well my friends were stuck with all the other crap for old people. My mom was always the cool mom, you know?" We nodded. "Then, when I was about 14, Mom came home with a new record, AKA 'Please Please Me', which she got from a friend who lives in England. We wore out the record. I don't think it even plays anymore. We've had good times together, Mom and me," Alex said, smiling to himself.

Soon, The Long Lost Brother and I had to go, and we bid my sister goodbye.

"Well, hard day's night, huh?" I said as I flipped on the living room light. George must have went to bed, judging by the absence of kitties in the living room.

"Yeah," Alex replied, grinning.

"Good night."

"Good night."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Meet The Beatles**

The next day, George and I took Alex to EMI. They were all sitting around, waiting for us. Alex looked like he was about to shit himself. After all, it's not everyday you get to meet your favorite band. I told him not to worry about it, because we were carbon copies and I was their best friend. Nevertheless, he was pretty nervous. John walked up and death-stared Alex, which was pretty comical, because Alex was about 6'1", and John measured in at 5'11''.

"State your name," John barked.

"Er, Alex James McFarlane?" Alex answered uncertainly. John tends to come off a little, erm, _interesting_ if you haven't been around him for a long time.

"Age!" John demanded.

"16..." Alex trailed off.

"Play guitar?" John interrogated.

"Yeah," Alex said, holding up the case of his Rickenbacker.

"Right or left?" John asked.

"Right, but I taught myself to play left too, just in case I need a new identity, or something like that," Alex stated.

"Favorite song?" John asked him, his eyes boring into Alex's.

"Hard Day's Night," Alex said, much more sure of himself than he had been before.

"Good," John said. "I wrote that one." Then he stuck out his hand. "Welcome to the club, son!" John exclaimed. Alex shook it.

"Thanks, man." Alex looked like he was still trying to comprehend that he was now part of The Beatles's inner circle.

"I dunno, I don't really see the resemblance," Ringo said, walking towards us go get a closer look. I disn't blame him. I don't see the resemblance either, I look too much like my mum.

"Come on, look at them," Paul said. I stood next to Alex so they could compare us. "They both have the McFarlane nose." Ringo cocked his head to one side, sort of like a dog.

"Yeah, I guess I can see it now," He said.

"Well, don't just stand there!" John yelled at us. "Get your guitars!" John glanced at Ringo. "Er, and drumsticks. We have a jam to jam!" And we jammed. It was one of the most amazing rock and roll songs I ever heard, even though that would be the only time I hear it.


	21. Chapter 21

_I'm back with Chapter 21! I don't know if I'll be able to update daily like I have been because school starts tomorrow, but I'll try my best. _

**Chapter 21**

**It's Only Love**

"Love, let's go take a drive," George said. "In case you aren't forgetting, Alex is here, and it's sort of rude?" I replied, wondering where George's normal train of thought had gone. _He _was usually the responsible one. Alex walked out of kitchen with a bowl of cornflakes. "I'll hold down the fort for you," He said, while shovelling cereal into his mouth. "Go, Holly. You really deserve it," He added before taking another bite. George gestured to Alex. "See?" He said. "Alex is a big boy. He can take care of himself." I looked at the two of them. Something was up. "Fine," I said. "But I won't like it." We got in the car. "Where are we going?" I asked. George put the keys in the ignition, and let it purr. "Surprise," He said. I sighed and watched the English countryside flash by my window. We stopped as soon as we came up to a field full of trees, which is honestly much more beautiful than it sounds. The willow trees seemed to form a canopy over the tall grass, and George led me to the center of it. "Holy shit! What the hell is that?" He exclaimed, pointing directly behind me. I looked at him. "Geo, I'm not stupid," I said, crossing my arms. "Seriously, what the hell is that?!" He insisted. "Fine," I said. I looked around, not seeing anything but the swaying green grass, dancing in the wind. I turned around, saying "I don't see anything, you-" I broke off my sentence in mid-speech at what I saw before me. What I saw was George on one knee, and a ring in his hand. "Holly, will you marry me?" He asked. I smiled. "Why do you even ask me?! Of course I will!" I jumped into his arms. I looked at the trees. "These would be good climbing trees," I remarked. George looked at me. "Holly! You're pregnant, for God's sake! You are in no condition to climb trees! If you climb one, I'll clobber you!" I raised my eyebrows. "Well, if I'm in no condition to climb trees, than I'm CERTAINLY in no condition to be clobbered by my fiance," I said sarcastically. He looked at me. "No condition for either," George said. I smiled. "All because of you," I said, playfully punching him. He smiled. "It takes two to tango!" He defended himself. "And half of those weren't my idea." I raised one eyebrow. "Yeah, like those nights when I would be trying to sleep, and you would drape your leg over me, and I would say 'Geo, cut it out, I'm trying to sleep' and you would put your arms around me, and you slid yourself on top of me?" I asked. He smiled devilishly. "You didn't get much sleep that night, did you?" George asked in a sexy voice. He took me in his arms. "Or those ones before recording sessions?" I said. "Well, you certainly didn't say no," George pointed out. Then, we headed for home. In the joy and happiness of it all, dark thoughts plagued my mind. I glanced at my ring. It must have been custom, because it was silver with little music notes all over it. "George," I said, deciding to empty my thoughts. "Did you propose to me only because I'm pregnant?" He looked at me in shock. "Of course not! Is our present situation what I had imagined for us, no. But I would have proposed to you eventually. Spending the rest of my life with you and our daughter is the best life I could possibly imagine," George reassured me. "Nuh uh, it's obviously a boy," I argued. He sighed. "You're the expert," He said. "Let's remember that, and this relationship will be smooth sailing," I said jokingly. We kissed on it, and I never looked back.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**Hello Goodbye**

Soon (it felt soon, anyway. In reality, it was four months), it was time for Alex to go home to America. He had already stayed a week longer than he was originally going to. The Beatles were almost as sorry as I to see him go. I found a sibling I could actually RELATE to (Britt was too 'I finished college, got married, and had a couple of kids. I'm what our parents wanted from you.'). Alex understood me on multiple levels that few others could reach. The Beatles found a reliable source of creative criticism, a gear musician, and more importantly, a good friend. George had also met his new brother-in-law, and they got on quite nicely, better then he did with my sister. And, more or less, Alex did not want to leave us either. He had found a new family, what was closer to a family than he had with his mother, despite her efforts. We all saw him off at the airport. I hugged him. "This seems so cliche, and I hate cliche, but I'm going to hate to see you go," I said. "I'll feel like the ninety year old millionaire widow alone with her ten thousand cats." He laughed. "Tang and Little Guy hardly fit the profile. Besides, I'll take care of you when you're ninety." I laughed at his joke like he had laughed at mine. "I'm glad my future is decided. We all know my deadbeat kids won't," I joked. Alex pulled away. "Remember to name that kid of yours after me," Alex reminded me. I held my hands up. "When I named my cat, George told that when we have children, I'm excluded from the naming process," I said in defeat. "Because you tried to name the poor guy Jarvis, Ebenezer, or Jefferson!" George defended himself. I stuck my tongue out at him. "Because Tangerine is such a sophisticated name!" Alex and George shook hands. "Good to meet you," George said. "Same," Alex said. "Felt good to meet my best mate's long lost brother," Paul said to Alex. "What Paul said," John and Ringo chimed in. "And don't forget what I said about songwriting," John added. "I won't," Alex promised. "And I won't forget any of you." Then, my brother walked out of my life just as easily as he had walked in. Ringo looked at us. "What are you naming that kid of yours, anyway?" I shrugged. "I dunno yet, really. You already heard that I don't get a say." I was only joking, you know," George said. I nodded. "So was I." "Paul!" Paul suggested. "What if it's a girl?" I asked. "Besides, your real name is James." Paul shrugged. "Paula," He answered. "I don't want my kid named after that goon," George said. "Don't exclude John!" John exclaimed. I looked at him. "And the untimely event that it isn't a boy?" John thought for a moment. "Joan," He replied. "I don't think so," I said. "Awww..." "Ringo!" Ringo said. George said to him "And when it's a girl, we could name her...?" Ringo thought for a little bit. "Ringoette?" George and I looked at each other, then back at Ringo. "NO!"

...

"What _are_ we naming that kid of ours?" I asked George as I got into the car. "I dunno, I still like Lilian for a girl," He answered. I shrugged. "And I still like George II for a boy," I said. "That makes him sound like the king of Britain," George protested. "And Lilian sounds like an old person's name," I said. I waited for him to explain that it wasn't old, it was 'elegant', but the explaination didn't come. "We _could _still technically go with the Alex thing. If it's a girl, you'd just name her Alexandra," George thought aloud. "Don't encourage him," I said. "I'm not naming my child after my kid brother." This wasn't going to be easy. Especially because our names were worlds apart. "Let's just not name her, then," George said. "You're still hell-bent on it being a girl?" I asked. He nodded in reply. "Well, besides, we have time, anyway," I said. "4 months," George said. "And knowing you and me, we'll forget and be scrambling for a name right at the end." He was right, you know. I had the memory of a fricking goldfish, and I couldn't speak for George, though, because was the memory of this relationship. That's not saying much. "Let's put it this way," George said. "Holly, what do you like for a girl?" I thought. "I hate to admit it, but I _did_ like Alexandra," I said. I saw where he was going with this. "What do you like for a boy?" I asked. "I don't know, I got so used to it being a girl that I never thought about it," George confessed. "George II it is, then..." I taunted. His eyes widened. "No! I'll think of something..." We drove off for home, George frantically thinking of a name. I thought it was very, very funny.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**All My Loving**[ac]

The Beatles were leaving to go to America for the first time. We were all very excited, but it took awhile for us to be that way. "This is so inconvenient!" George complained as he got into bed with me, while I was half listening because I was reading. "How?" I asked flipping the page. "I have to leave!" George complained. I rolled my eyes. "I can manage. I'm a grown girl," I said, reading intently. George took my book and put it on his table. "But that was the part where he goes in the cave and gets his head sliced off!" I protested. "Yes," Geo said. "A grown, pregnant girl." I stuck my tongue out at him. "I'm not due for another 4 months, it isn't as if I'll go into labor and you aren't here." George's eyes widened, as if a whole new thought had come to him. "Don't worry, It won't be long," I said. He smiled at the pun. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" He said. I reached across for my book. "Won't you miss me?" George asked me. "Maybe," I said. "Depending on if you get me some cereal right now." He shook his head, but obligingly got me a bowl of cornflakes. "Good night, love," He said, turning out the light. "Goddammit! Don't I ever catch a break to finish this book?! I get to 'And he walks into the doomed cave that claimed his brother, trying to see through the darkness. 'What is that?' He yells.', and then you shut off the lights!" I exclaimed. "It's bedtime," George said. I closed my eyes, thinking about what should be in the cave.

...

I stood at the airport, realizing how much I actually would miss George. I knew that i would miss him, if that sounds rude to you, but it felt like he was being ripped away from me. He hugged me, and told me "Close your eyes, and I'll kiss you." I understood it, and I closed my eyes. He placed his lips on mine, getting all the kisses he'd be missing. I opened my eyes again. "Tomorrow, I'll miss you." "Remember, I'll always be true," I sang back to him. "And then while I'm away, I'll write home everyday, and I'll send all my loving to you," George finished. "I'll send all my loving, as well!" Paul promised me, giving me a hug. "Me too!" Ringo said. "I would, but I need to give some to Cyn, so you get half my loving!" John said. "Thanks," I said. They all turned around to leave. "Geo!" I exclaimed at the last moment. He turned around. "I love you," I said. He smiled. "I love you too." And he was gone.

I was so lonely. My friends were all gone, as well as my fiance. In America. "Better go get the mail," I said to myself. On the other hand, I finally got to finish that book. I skimmed through the mail, like I always do. "Bills, bills, bills, Holly McFarlane," I said, taking it out. It was in George's writing. "_Dear Holly, It's so crazy over here! It's worse than Britain in terms of Beatlemania. You would not believe how creative we have to get to get out of the hotel. We've been working like dogs over here. Have you finished that book yet (yes, I know that's all you'll be doing!)? I miss you like mad! The bed feels so cold without your body heat. Funny that I say that, you're freezing at night, because you always seem to be huddled next to me in a ball for warmth. It feels so empty, also, without you next to me, the sound of your breathing lulling me to sleep. Not like I get to sleep, anyway. I've been up for days. I better cut this letter short, we need to go, and they're all yelling at me. All My Loving, Geo" _I wrote back to him at the address he had put down. I felt so stupid, but the feelings came pouring out of my pen anyway. Damn hormones..._"Dear Geo, No kidding about writing home everyday, huh? I'm on the last chapter of my book, thank you very much! You make me sound like I'm retired! I always made fun of people who write sappy love letters, but I now realize it was because I had never been in love myself. Our bed feels out of proportion at night because your weight isn't on your side to balance me out! There isn't anybody anymore to get me corn flakes at all hours of the night. I tried to train Tang to carry it on her back, but it was futile. I lay awake at night, wondering if you're awake over there in New York (although it sounds like you are). I miss you terribly, if you haven't noticed already. I stay with Cyn on and off, but it isn't the same as you. I love you with all my heart, if you believe in that sappy stuff. If I find out about any shenanigans over there, you'll find yourself on a boat to China in a trunk. All my loving, Holly" _I chuckled to myself after reading the pair of letters. We both sounded like hopeless romantics, or virgins. Or hopeless virgin romantics. I looked at my stomach. No chance of us being virgins, I thought with a mental laugh. I got to replying to all the other letters. I felt like a secretary. John's was the funny one, and so was Ringo's, Paul's was the honest one, and George's was the sweet, sappy one. We didn't even have a romantic bone in our body. I crossed off the day on the calendar. I started off into the bedroom, but I turned back at the last moment. I grabbed the corn flakes box. _Just in case._

...

I noticed we seem to make a habit of being on late planes. I checked my watch. They should have been here 10 minutes ago! By the time they get here, I'll be forty! "They'll be here soon," Cynthia said to me, sensing my impatience by my rapid movement. Tapping my foot, drumming my fingers, etc. Finally, I saw a smile with two fangs in it, and what the dentist thought to be a nightmare I thought was cute. "GEORGE!" I screamed, and ran at him. He dropped his suitcase, and took me into his arms. "I think someone might have missed you, mate?" John said. "Go to your wife," I said sarcastically. For a while, he just held me. I had missed his arms so much, and his lips, his fangs, his smile... Ugg! Goddamn hormones! I looked down. "I think someone is coming between us," I said. He smiled. "Well, he'll just have to deal with it. You're my girl, and he can't change that," George said. "I think that's the first time you've ever referred to the baby as a boy," I said. "Do you write down what I say?" George asked me. "In a diary I keep in my knickers drawer," I said. "Come on, lovebirds, let's go home," Paul said jokingly. I stuck my tongue out at him. My boys were back in town at last. How I had missed their teasing.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**Heartbreak Hotel**

George was absentmindedly biting his nails. We had ourselves hidden behind a magazine, so we wouldn't be recognized. I also had him wearing a fake mustache, just in casr. "I'm nervous," He said to me as I absentmindedly read a magazine. "I've never been to one of these things before. What if I'm recognized?" I turned my attention to him and said "Don't be. You get to play the fly on the wall. All they do is ask me questions, get the baby's heartbeat, I sign a bunch of shit, and then I get a lolly from the nurse. It's easy." He smiled at my description of my regular experiences of scheduled doctor's visits. "Holly?" A male nurse called from the door. George and I stood up, along with another woman who was much more pregnant than I was, and her husband. The nurse looked back down at his clipboard. "McFarlane?" he added. She sat down, and George and I followed him through the door. "Sit down. Doctor Robert will be in to see you in a minute," He said. "This is rather awkward, isn't it?" I laughed. He took my hand. "No. I was just thinking about how if I told my 15 year old self that I'd even get the chance to shag you, much less marry you, I would have passed out." George chuckled. I looked down at my stomach. "Well, look where shagging me got you," I said. Doctor Robert opened the door. "Good to see you again today, Holly," He said, shaking my hand, our weekly ritual. "I don't believe I've met your..." He trailed off, not knowing George and I's status. "Husband," I said. George had a second of surprise pass over his face, and held out his hand to Doctor Robert. "George," He said. "I prefer to go by my first name, Robert. My last name is rather embarrassing," Doctor Robert said, shaking George's hand. "Why, what is it?" I asked. George was being polite, but I could tell he was curious as well. "Let's just say it has to do with male genitalia," Robert said. George and I snickered for a second or two silently before regaining our composure. Robert asked me all the regular questions which I answered as I regularly did. "Alright then, let's get to it," Robert said. I hopped up on the table, laid down, and lifted my t-shirt. George's eyes widened a little as he saw his handywork, not noticing it before, since I don't dress overly form-fitting anyways. I looked at him, speaking in our silent language again. _Your lack of knowledge on this is honestly starting to depress me_, I said. George rolled his eyes, and tried to appear as if he was listening intently to Robert as he explained how ultrasounds worked, and how it is new, so don't be too surprised if we have problems, etc. He squirted the gel on my stomach, and I yelled "Holy Christ! That's fuckin' freezing!" George rolled his eyes at me again. "What?" I said. "You come feel it, it feels like Liverpool in the fuckin' winter!" George shook his head. "No, I'm good right here, love." Robert laughed. "What?" I asked. "You two are the oddest couple I've ever seen. You argue like children." That comment sunk in, as if hit me that we were barely adults. Doctor Robert started doing his job, and he frowned. "I'll be right back," He said, and left the room. "I wonder what that was about, yeah?" George asked. I nodded. "Let's play a game while we're waiting for Doctor Penis to come back," George said, and I started laughing at his use of Robert's last name. "I'll hum the rythem of a song, and you'll guess it." I nodded. He started, and five seconds later, I replied "Long Tall Sally. That's too easy." George stroked a pretend beard, and started to hum again. "That's 'I Want to Hold Your Hand'!" I said. George replied "I didn't think you'd get that one." He hummed more. "Heartbreak Hotel," I said, and Robert walked back in, with a much younger doctor in tow. "This is Doctor Martin, everyone," Robert introduced. "Doctor Martin, this is Holly and George." Martin was busy reading the visible part of my shirt. "I like The Beatles, too," He said. "Ooh, so do I!" George exclaimed. "My favorite is that gear George Harrison! That man is _sex on legs_!" I tried to hit him from my laying-down position on the bed, but Martin and I were laughing. "He's just going to make sure that my old eyes are seeing things here correctly," Doctor Robert said. "He's much more skilled with ultrasounds than I." Doctor Martin took a look around, and said "Excuse us please" with a frown. They shut the door, and we could see their shadows discussing something. I turned to George. "What if they found out that our baby is a mutant?" I asked him. He scooted his chair closer to me, and took my hand. "I'm positive that everything is fine," George said. He kissed my forehead. I smiled. "You're right." They walked back in the door. Doctor Martin had developed a sudden interest in his shoes, and Doctor Robert seemed to be searching for words. I had an idea of what he was going to say, but I didn't want to hear it. "I'm sorry, Ms. McFarlane, Mr. Harrison, but I'm afraid that you've had a miscarriage." I was fighting the tears in my eyes. "No!" I said. "You said that you might have technical difficulties-" Robert took off his glasses. "Holly, I've been doing this for 30 years," He said. "I know," I said quietly. George kissed my hand, and squeezed it. The rest of Doctor Robert's words seemed to be muted. "...come in tomorrow," He finished. George must have been listening, because he nodded and replied "We'll be here." I yanked my t-shirt down. George led me back through the lobby, holding my hand just a little too tight, but I didn't feel it. I couldn't feel anything. A perky nurse told us to "Have a great day!" on our way out, but she didn't see the tears threatening to overflow my eyelids. I fought the urge to break her jaw with all the self-control I could muster. We got in the car, and George took a look at my stomach, then at my face, and launched himself into my arms. I'd never seen him like this. He was usually pretty stable. These days, it seemed like I was the emotional one, so this was new to me. George literally burst into tears. I felt the dam break open for me as well. We just sat there, like two idiots. And we cried.

...

"Do you want to talk?" George asked me. I shook my head. I walked into the bedroom, and laid down. I did want to talk, but there were no words that came into my mind that seemed to even describe the emptiness that I felt. I really wanted a cigarette, but I still couldn't smoke. I felt like yelling 'fuck it' and lighting one anyway, but Dr. Robert and Martin were very insistant. I walked out of our bedroom, and saw George outside through the window. He was smoking, and looking at the land. He wouldn't stop running his hands through his moptop. For some reason, there weren't any fans hanging on the fence (we all in the Beatles clan called them 'gatebirds'). I didn't want to disturb his private moment, knowing he might want some space, so I just wrote a note that said "Going for a drive. I love you." and stuck it on the glass door leading out to the patio, the door he would have come in to get into the house. I took the keys off of the kitchen counter, and left. As I started driving, I realized that I had no clue where I was going. For some strange reason, a name popped in my head. Before Paul, Lauren, or even Morgan. _John._ I drove to his place, and knocked on the door. John actually answered the door. "Is Cyn here?" I asked, peering my head inside. "No, she's out with Jules. Might I be of service? Fight with Georgie?" He asked. I stepped inside. "No." John looked confused, and lifted his eyebrow, asking for an explanation. "I...I lost the baby," I said, staring at my feet. "I just needed to get out if there, you know?" "Bloody Hell," John said. He took me in his arms. "C'mon, let it out," He said while rubbing my back. "Tell Uncle Johnny." People always think of John as a cynical, acerbic wit, but those closest to him know he was very sweet at times, and this was no exception. I hadn't seen John like that before, except when I actually found out that I was pregnant. Ironic. And John held me while I gently wept.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

**No Concern of Yours**

A week later, we said goodbye to Lilian Kay Harrison before she even took one breath. A couple days later, I had a conversation on the phone with my brother, trying to downplay the emptiness in my heart. I didn't feel. I didn't taste. Kisses weren't intoxicating. I didn't sleep. He could tell that I wasn't being honest, but he knew it was just my nature. After I got off the phone with Alex, the phone rang instantly. "Hello?" I asked, annoyed. "Hey girl. John told me. How are you doing?" I tried to laugh it off. "Hey, Paul. Feels funny to be skinny again," I said. "Don't bullshit me, Holly," He said. "Don't act as if everything is fine, because I know it isn't. George smokes twice as much as usual, takes a break, and if you look outside, you see him crying like a fucking baby. Tell me what is going through your mind, for the love of God! Could you not be an emotional cripple for once?" I could feel my face heating up. Couldn't he just respect that I didn't want to talk about it? That Teddy Girls don't fucking cry? "What do you want to me to say, Paul?" I exclaimed. "That the only place I don't cry is in the shower, because the tears blend in with the water? That I haven't laughed in weeks? George can't even fucking look at me? I haven't had sex for weeks? That I smoke more cigarettes than you, John, and Ringo put together daily?!" I heard a pause on the other end. "All I meant is that it's unhealthy for you to not express your feelings. You don't have to pretend to have no soul all the time, you know. That's really not good for you, especially right now," Paul said slowly. "There are certain brands of melancholy that can't be expressed with words," I said dully. "Do you want to go out tonight with me, if George doesn't mind, that is?" Paul asked. "You know, movie, drinks, a good time?" "I'm sure he wouldn't mind," I said darkly. "He comes home, and sits on the fucking patio and smokes, then he goes to bed. Doesn't ever touch me once." I paused, then said "I'd like to do that. 7ish?" "Right." I hung up. George walked in. "Who was that?" He asked. "Paul," I said. He grabbed me and randomly kissed me, and for once, I felt a spark. I started to intensify it, until he pulled away, to my dismay. "What was that for? I haven't been kissed like that for a while." I asked. "Instinct," He said, and shrugged. "I feel bad. Haven't been paying attention to you too much. You must be talking to John a lot, 'cause he was saying that you said you don't even feel like you're in a relationship sometimes." I bit my lip. I talked to John because he seemed to listen to me. Paul always seemed to be with Jane Asher (and I wasn't comfortable going over to the Asher's just to talk to Paul), George was too distant, and I didn't feel like I could talk to Ringo, I've never been too serious when I'm with Ringo. We just seem to laugh and joke around. "A little," I said. "You can talk to me, you know," George said. "Isn't that what relationships are about?" I smiled. "I suppose. You could speak up sometimes too, you know." George didn't answer, instead he kissed me again. "I'm going to go see a movie with Paul tonight. That alright, love?" I asked, giving him one more quick peck. "I guess..." He mumbled. "Are you coming to the premiere of Hard Day's Night with me though?" I'd almost forgot about it. A night filled with reporters, bawling fans trying to claw my eyes out, and music. "I wouldn't miss it if you PAYED me to go meet fuckin' Elvis in person!" I said. He grinned. "Great. I'll try to make sure they don't go too hard on you." I held up a mock-notebook and pen. "George!" I shouted. "What's it like shagging famous Beatle wife Holly McFarlane?" He grinned. "She's something." I wrote it down. I'll tell you this, when Paul came to pick me up at 7, I was smiling ear to ear. Paul grinned broadly at me. "Hey hey," He said. "Is someone smiling? You don't look like the depressed insomniac I talked to on the phone today." "We had some revelations and love making," I explained. "You do look lovely, by the way," He said. I only grinned. We arrived at the pictures, and Paul asked "What do you want to see?" I looked closely at the theatrical posters. "Let's go see Mary Poppins, just for a laugh," I said. He smiled devilishly. "Wouldn't it be funny if we snuck in back like the old days, just for a laugh?" We did just that. We sat in the way back, like we did when we first saw Love Me Tender all those years ago, without paying, and indiscreetly stealing from the popcorn that belonged to the couple in front of us. They were passionately making out, so I figured it wasn't doing them any good. After the movie, we went to the pub for a couple beers. Alright, maybe more than a couple beers. We ended up being thrown out, for I broke a guy's nose because he grabbed my ass. That's a huge no in my world. We drove into the driveway. "Thanks a lot, Paulie," I said. "We need to do this more often. Sorry about the pub." "It's ok," He slurred. "I'm the designated driver, we should have left four beers earlier." I smiled. Paul started to lean in, and I turned my cheek towards him for what I thought was going to be our typical brotherly kiss on the cheek. Paul ignored my cheek and went straight for my lips, crashing his against mine. I pulled away quickly. "G-Good night, Paul!" I squeeked, and exited his car with as much velocity as my below average legs could muster.


	26. Chapter 26

_I wanted to get my daily update in before I leave, so as not to disappoint my faithful Beatle People! I present you with... Chapter 26!_

**Chapter 26**

**A Hard Day's Night**

I slammed the door behind me, breathing deeply. "You look like you just went mad," George observed. "I did," I replied, running my hands through my long hair. I decided just to grow it out. Pain in the ass to go get cut all the time. "What happened?" He asked. George knew me too well, and he could tell I was shaken. "Paul _k-kissed_ me!" I exclaimed. I crashed my lips into George's. I needed to reassure myself. "I'm going to kill him!" He growled. "We had a lot to drink," I admitted. "He might have just been drunk." "Either way, I'm going to kill him," George repeated. Neither of us spoke for awhile. "Well, I'm turning in," I said, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I'm going to have a terrible hangover in the morning..." He nodded, and kissed me again. I woke up in the morning to George yelling at me. "Phone's for you! It's Paul McJackass!" I winced, and said "Not so loud" as I took the phone. "HEY PAULIE!" I yelled, knowing his hangover was as bad if not worse than mine. "Not cool!" Paul moaned. "I just wanted to apologize for last night. I had four beers too many, and did something I shouldn't have. George made that very clear." He chuckled after that being said. "He gave you a hard time, then?" I asked. "Yeah. Told me he was ready to drag me by me toes to Singapore." Paul paused, then said "And I know we're both fully committed to our relationships. We were just a bit drunk last night." I nodded, as i he could see me. "I know. I forgive you. I gotta go, me 'ead is poundin' something terrible," I said, letting all the Scouse in. Sometimes Paul and I had 'Scouse Wars'. "Yeah? Startin' to regret them shots we were doing, eh? Mine is too. Me woman is tryin' to feed me. Bye love! Ta for not blowin' up at me," Paul said, the last sentence not-so-Scouse. "Bye Paulie," I said, and hung up. George had his arms crossed. "Stop being a dick about it, he apologized," I said as I got an ice cube out of the freezer and put it on my head. "Ahh..." George uncrossed his arms. "I'm not being a dick! You don't understand it!" He exclaimed. "What don't I understand?" I asked. "He fancies you!" George finally said. I scoffed. "He's with Jane, you moron." George shook his head. "No. He used to fancy you back in the day. I think that might have fuelled last night." I was quiet for a moment. It all clicked. "Yeah," George said. "I'm sorry you had to find out at all." I looked up at him. "You're right. It doesn't matter." I grinned. "What matters is how the hell am I supposed to dress for a movie premiere?" "Just look beautiful, and it's fine. The reporters expect you to look like the Brigitte Bardot of Beatle girlfriends/wives, so that's what you'll do." I raised an eyebrow. "You're such a charmer."

...

"Goddammit!" I exclaimed. "What?" George asked. His hair was still wet from his shower, and in a flash, he was standing in the doorway half-dressed. "I can't reach the goddamn zipper!" I said. George rolled his eyes, and came to zip it for me. "Who invented skirts with zippers on the back anyway?" He asked as he zipped it up. "No clue. Thanks love," I said. "Are you going like that?" George asked me. "No, I have a shirt too." I was wearing a black, knee length skirt, which was tight enough to look sexy without looking trashy, and a dark red shirt, with layered ruffly sleeves. Not too ruffly though. Loose ruffly. "Geo, are you ready yet? Eppy's gonna kill you if we're late!" I yelled from the door. "I can't-" He started to say, but came to the door to show me his predicament instead. "You'd think after a year of Beatlemania, you'd know how to tie your own goddamn tie!" I told him as I tied his tie for him. "Now let's go."

...

"Holly!" A reporter yelled at me as a flashbulb blinded me. "What's it like to be dating one of the Beatles?" I grinned. "I'm sure you'd like to know! Cor, next you'll be asking me what I think of him in bed..." "HOLLY!" "Holly!" I nudged George. "They ask me more questions than they ask you, and you're the Beatle!" We fought our way in, and sat down. George and John decided to make a point of whispering their lines into my ear. "She's a drag, and a well-known drag." George whispered. "You're a swine," John whispered to me. I sighed, and tapped Cynthia's shoulder. "I was really looking forward to the movie!" I said. Cynthia grinned. "Don't you love the gits we're stuck with?" She asked. "I wouldn't trade them for anything," I said seriously. And I won't. Not ever.


	27. Chapter 27

_Stick with me now, it's a filler chapter. With my stories, I have a timeline. Dome events in my timeline I have a whole lot of fillers because I don't want to have it happen. But that's the way it is, isn't it?_

**Chapter 27**

**I Feel Fine**

I woke up, and mentally cursed at the bright light streaming through the window. George moaned and rolled over, and I followed suit. I could feel Tangerine stretch from her position between my two feet. Suddenly, I felt sick. "Excuse me!" I said quickly, and sprinted to the bathroom. I was never happier that it was right across the hall from our bedroom. George quickly appeared and held my hair back from my face as I emptied my stomach. I inhaled deeply, and stood up. I put a hand on the counter to steady myself quickly, and then went to brush my teeth. "Coming down with the lurgi?" George asked me. "No," I said. "Just something I ate." I spit out my toothpaste. "That's the thing, you didn't eat anything at all yesterday. That's just unnatural," George said. The boys always joked that George and I were perfect for each other because we both were bottomless pits. Every one of us had a feature that was usually lightheartedly joked about by the other four. George's was either his cheekbones or his appetite, Ringo's was his nose, Paul's was his doe eyes or the whole facial structure in general, John's was usually his bushy eyebrows, thin eyes or lips, and mine was my height (by female standards, I was pretty tall, but since they were all male I was short to them), appetite, or the fact that I'm a girl in general. George was right, it was unnatural. But I hated having people worry about me. It was annoying, and there are more important things in the world then I. "I'm fine," I insisted. "No, you _aren't_ fine," George said firmly. "You just puked." He left the bathroom, and I knew exactly what he was doing and followed him in. "I'm calling in sick," George said. "I'm going to stay here and take care of you." "You are _not _missing this session!" I said. "It's the first session of the new album!" I exclaimed. The album didn't even have a name yet. "You're sick," George repeated. "George Harrison, for the last fucking time, I'm _fine!_" I yelled. "Yeah, I'm not going to be able to make it... Yes, she's puking... Ok, ta... Bye." George hung up the phone triumphantly. "I'm not fucking sick," I repeated. "Sit down," George told me. "No," I said back. "I'm perfectly fine." "Would you just admit there's something wrong with you, for once?!" George yelled at me. That scared me into obeying, and I sat down, muttering "This is fucking ridiculous..." George had never yelled at me like that. Ever. He got me some tea, and soon, there was a knock on the door. "If you're so fine, go answer the door," George said. Great. He was still pissed. I stood up, and I immediately felt dizzy, but I was going to do this. I placed my hand on the doorknob, closed my eyes and breathed in deeply before finally opening the door. Before me was Ringo, Paul, and John. "Heard you weren't feeling up to snuff," John said. I rolled my eyes and didn't answer. Paul turned to George. "She's still in denial?" He asked. George nodded. I went back to my tea. "Where d'you keep the buckets?" John asked George. "I'm not going to spill again," I complained. "You don't know if you'll spill," Ringo said. He accidentally brushed my arm. "Jesus Christ! You're cold!" He exclaimed. He covered me up with a blanket. I sighed, accepting that I wasn't going to escape this, and laid down. "Paulie!" I yelled. "What?" He asked, suddenly by my side. "Get me a ciggie," I said. Paul shook his head. "No ciggies, you're sick," Paul replied. "Come on, just one smoke!" I pleaded. "No!" John came back with my bucket. "Just give her a fuckin' cigarette, Macca," He said, placing it by my head. Paul sighed, and relinquished a cigarette. He put it between my lips and lit me up. I took a long drag, and blew the smoke out. "That's better," I sighed. "You've been smoking a lot lately," Paul observed. I blew a puff of smoke in his face. "Got a lot on my mind," I replied. George walked into to the living room from the kitchen. "Here, love, eat this," He said, a plate of toast in his hand. I shook my head. "I'm not hungry." "Come on, Holl, you've got to eat," Paul said. "What does 'I'm not hungry' mean to you people?" I asked as I looked up at him. "If you're so fine, you'd eat," Ringo said. "I think you're afraid of upchucking again." "Am not!" I protested. John turned to George. "George, I apologize for this ahead of time," He said, and took the plate from his hand. John then proceeded to sit on me. "You've left me with no choice but to force-feed you!" John exclaimed, forcing my mouth open with one hand, and shoving the toast in my mouth with the other. Then, he took his hand off of my jaw. "Chew," John barked. I did as I was told, and he did the same thing with the other piece of toast. He got up off me, and smiled triumphantly at George. "That's how it's done, son," He said. "If you keep this down, I won't make you eat anything else if you don't want," George said. "I wish the Goon Show was still on," I muttered. "I didn't know you listened to that," John commented. "I loved the Goon Show." I nodded. "I always listened to it with Dad when I wasn't feeling up to par." We didn't say anything for awhile, until John broke the silence by saying "Rhubarb", and we were all in hysterics. A couple minutes later, after we stopped laughing, Paul bellowed "BRANDYYY!" and we all started laughing again. Then, I puked again. "Damn, now I have to eat again!" I complained. "Not right away, love," George said as he let go of my hair. "She's got a bad case of the lurgi," John confirmed as he rubbed my back. I groaned, and laid back down. "I'm sleepy," I said with a yawn. "Johnny, tell me a story." He grinned. This was John's strong suit. "Once upon a time, there was a sea merchant named Frank..."


	28. Chapter 28

_I'm_ _sorry I haven't update in a while! Mobile Google Docs was being a butt, and then I had a fiasco where I accidently deleted all but the first paragraph of this story, and I had to write it all again from scratch. Honestly, I'm happier with this version than the one that was lost, but that was a good week's work! But enough of my petty excuses, you've all had a long enough wait. Without further ado... Chapter 28!_

**Chapter 28**

**A Day in the Life**

The phone rang at 7:00 in the morning. I sleep until 9. Calling me in the morning like this is a big no no. "I'll get it, love," George mumbled, and got out of bed. "Hello? Oh, hi Britt... Yeah, she's sleeping... I was too, y'know... It's fine." He put his hand over the phone. "It's for you," George said, and walked back into the bedroom. "Hello, Sister," I said. "Hey!" She said cheerily. "I need to ask a really huge favor of you." I sighed. "Yes, Sister?" I asked. "I have to go out of town for a day on business, and I was wondering if you and George could watch Lucy and Michael," Britt said quickly. Lucy and Michael are my neice and nephew. Lucy was four, and Michael was 5 months old. "George is recording today," I said. "And besides, I can't take care of children! I'm just 'cool aunt'.." When we were children, we used to have a joke over who got to be cool aunt. It looks like I'm cool aunt. "Come on! It's practice, I'm sure you and George will try again," My sister said. She obviously didn't notice how sore of a subject Lilian still was. "I don't even know if I can successfully have children," I said darkly. Doctor Robert never said anything about it, but it made me wonder. "Please?" She asked again. "Sure," I said, pacing as much as the phone cord allowed me to. "Thanks! I'll drop them off at 10," Britt said, and the phone went dead. I sighed, and I walked back into the bedroom, where George was futilely trying to get back to sleep. I slipped myself under his arms, savoring the warmth. "I'm babysitting," I said into his pillow.. "Oh yeah?" George said, his loose hold on my body tightening. He swallowed, and then he asked "Do you really think you can't have children?" I bit my lip, and tried to look up at him. "Just makes me wonder, you know?" I paused, wondering how impulsively rude what I was about to say was, but I was sure that George was well aware that I was an impulsively rude person. Just my nature, I don't try to be. "Does it matter to you if I can't?" I asked, straining my neck to look up at him. He appeared to be hesitating to answer. "I-Well, no. I mean, I might want children in the future, but honestly, I'm 21 years old and I have a _very _full time job," George said slowly. He chuckled. "Imagine going on first dates if I did, though," George said. "I'd have to ask for their resume and have a contract and the like." I laughed, imagining that George was at a table in a restaurant with a faceless girl, handing over one of those tan folders, pointing out with a pen tip all of the important things for her to sign. You'd think that thinking of my fiance on a date with a woman other than I should bother me, but I thought it was funny. In spite of everything, we still regarded each other as a best friend. A best friend we sleep with, but a best friend nevertheless. "'Sign here if you have a healthy sperm count'," I said. "'Initial here if you experience regular menstrual cycles'," George replied. We looked at each other, and laughed for a moment, before sharing an uncomfortable kiss, because of the position I was laying in. I rolled over onto my back, and that kiss could have been more, but the shrill sound of a doorbell interrupted any potential. "You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me!" I growled. "She said 10 on the phone!" George rolled off of me so I could go get dressed. "Better turn off that language right now, babysitter," George said as I threw on a t-shirt. "I highly doubt that you're ready to explain to a four year old what 'fucking' is- and how good Uncle George is at it." I buttoned my jeans, and said "Hahaha, getting full of ourselves, Uncle George?" I asked. He just smiled at me in response, and I went to go answer the door, sliding down the railing on the stairs for extra speed. "Hello," I said, and my sister's gaze went to my frizzy hair, and she winked at me. "Haha, that's what could have been, had you not been such an early riser," I said, making sure to be extremely vague so as to avoid a very premature sex talk with Lucy. Britt grinned. "I figured that you and George have loads of time for that, don't you?" Instead of answering her, I turned to Lucy. "Good morning, Munchkin!" I said. "Ready to have more fun with me than your mummy?" She only smiled shyly. "And hello, my smallest Munchkin!" I told Michael, who was in my sister's arms. He cooed for me. George appeared at the door, more dressed than he had been 10 minutes ago. He picked up Lucy and spun her, before letting her down gently. "So you are alive?" Britt asked him. "Haha, you try recording sessions sometime," George said as he rubbed his eyes. She passed Michael over to George, who looked like he was afraid of breaking him. "Well, I'd better get going," Britt said, and started to make the way to her car. I covered Lucy's ears tightly, and called to her "Say hello to that fucker you're married to, yeah?" She grinned. "He'll be pleased to have heard from you!" She waved one more time, and was gone. I unclasped my hands from her ears, and we headed inside. "Your mum knows how to pack for a day," I groaned as I pulled all of the stuff on my front porch inside. "Lucy, I've found this gear little zoo, but there's no one who will go with me," I said as I shut the front door. "I will! I will!" She exclaimed. "Lovely! We'll do that when Uncle Georgie deserts us," I said. "Hey! If I could go with, I definitely would!" George defended himself. He looked down at Michael in his arms. He looked just a little less scared of him. "Sad how much he looks like your sister," George commented. "Yeah, well, Lilian looked just like you!" I said. "No, you two we copies of each other!" George said. They had allowed us to see our daughter for a few brief moments. Our argument was interrupted by a large "MEEWW!" that originated from the corner of the room. I whipped my head around to see Little Guy hissing at Lucy, who was holding clumps of black and white fur in her fist. I kicked the cat (I didn't intend to kill him, just get his attention), and said "Hissing at me is one thing, but we don't hiss at guests! I looked at Lucy. "He didn't bite you, did he?" I asked. She shook her head. "Uh, I think that Michael has, er, gotten a call from nature, and I just remember I wanted to go in early," George said as he shoved my nephew into my last-minute cradle. I sniffed him as the front door slammed shut. I tried to ignore the annoyed feeling direct towards George for leaving me alone with two children under the age of 5. "Phew, you DO stink," I said, and made my way to change him. "Auntie," Lucy tugged on my pant leg after I had rid her brother of all disgusting smells. "Yes, love?" I asked. "Play me a song," She said. It was our ritual. Everytime we saw each other I played her something. Usually we did "The Lion Sleeps Tonight", by The Tokens. I looked around at our instrument filled living room. There was so many that sometimes I thought it would be better if only one of us was musical. I always shook that thought from my mind quickly, knowing either of would die without music. "On what?" I asked. There was at least 4 guitars (one acoustic and one electric each), a piano (Jim McCartney taught me how), a harmonica that belonged to my Great-Uncle Charles, and a banjo that John was teaching me how to play. She pointed at my '53 Martin guitar that I learned on when I was 12, and it was passed on to me when my father died. "Very well," I said, setting Michael down in his makeshift cradle. I picked up the guitar, and started playing. "One, two, three, four, can I have a little more? Five, six, seven eight nine ten, I love you! All together now, all together now..." Lucy grinned, but said "I don't know that one." I shrugged. "Neither do I," I said. I think that statement confused her, but she didn't show any indications of it. We headed off to the zoo shortly after that, and I had to make sure I was driving at least 10 miles slower then I would have it had been just I driving. I'm a bit reckless, and I like speed. Go fast enough, and maybe I can finally fly. Anywho, enough of my philosophical shit, long story short we arrived at the zoo. I actually had a better time than I thought I would have. Lucy liked the penguins, and I dug the big cats. Every time we passed one, I looked at him, and said "I bet you wish you were running wild in Africa, don't you?" Then, after we saw the penguins for the fifth time, we went to get some ice cream. I got chocolate, and Lucy got strawberry, and we licked while watching all of the cars speeding around in London. We got in the car after we were finished, because George would kill me if we were eating in his 'baby'. Don't tell, but when I went in drives, I ate Jelly Babies in there. Anyroad, I got an idea. "Hey Luce," I said. "Whaddyou think about visiting Uncle Georgie?" "Yes!" She said. I grinned. We parked across the street from EMI. Lucy ran ahead of me through the door. "Uncle Georgie!" She exclaimed, and wrapped her arms around his legs. "Hello, there," I said to him as I followed Lucy in with Michael. "Hi," He said, prying Lucy off. We started talking a little about how the album (more commonly known as Beatles for Sale) was going when Paul turned a corner to where we were. "Uncle Paulie!" Lucy screamed, and she ran into his arms. "Hello, Luce," He said, swinging her around. When Paul reached us, he put her down and said "Thought there were no girfriends or wives, Harri?" George rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it Paul, it's just Holly," He said. Paul only grinned. "I can sense when I'm not wanted, you know," Paul said. "Snog away!" He left the room as I yelled "When I get rid of the small ones, I've got some words for you!" I turned back to George and shrugged. "You better get back to it," I said. "I guess," He said. I leaned in for a kiss, but I broke it laughing when Lucy said "Yuck." George laughed with me. "In about 12 more years, kid, you'll think it's a lot less yucky," George said to her. I gave him one last peck, and said as I walked out the door "I love you." George replied "I love you." "I love you" "I love you" We echoed until we couldn't hear each other anymore. I wish we had echoed it more, so maybe George's "I love you" would have been etched upon my mind a little longer.

_Hey, what did you think you all think? Worth the wait? Probably not, but y'know, magic of the filler. The next one is a crucial plot point though, and I'm sure you'll all be super pissed at me for it. Anywho, do that review thing, see you in Chapter 29_

_-Starkiller_


	29. Chapter 29

_Here's chapter 29. I almost cried when I was writing it. This is the chapter you'll get pissed at me for, but it might be the best yet. I had originally written a draft of this chapter in Holly's point of view, but I think I like the glimpse into George's thoughts better. Enjoy, I guess. Do that review thing._

_-Starkiller_

**Chapter 29**

**The Last Time**

I heard the sound of rain outside of my window as I woke up in an empty bed again. _Irony follows me everywhere, doesn't it?_I thought as I read the note on my bedside table again. "Late night again. Sleeping at Paul's. I love you." I sighed. There had been a lot of late recording sessions lately. I was getting that feeling that I wasn't in a relationship with George anymore, and I hated that feeling. I truly did love him, and it almost felt like cheating on him to think that. If he wasn't sleeping at Paul's house, he came home and didn't want anything to do with me. About a week ago, I had given up on trying to talk with him. "Want to go on a drive with me?" "No, I'm going to sleep." "Go to the pictures with me?" "I'm dead tired." I didn't mean to not be understanding, and I survive very well on my own, but I felt so isolated, alone, and confined to one spot. When I'm alone, I get so pessimistic and cynical. Just George's presence makes me more optimistic, but I wasn't graced by that anymore. The worse part was that I had no one to talk to about. it. I was just left drowning in my own thoughts. I walked into the kitchen, and I got out a bowl for some cereal. I'm not exactly Julia Child, ok? I eat the food, I don't cook it. I sat down in the living room, numbly eating cereal and waiting for George to come home and walk passed me. My thoughts whirled around in my head, swimming and drowning and dizzying me. I almost felt a tear coming on, but the sound of a door opening. George walked in past me, and into the kitchen. "Didn't Paul feed you?" I asked him. "I left before the others woke up," George replied, joining me on the couch with his own bowl of cereal. No, I'm not sure how we survive. "What book are you reading?" He asked. "Just re-reading Alice in Wonderland. Got to talking with John about it, I decided to read it again," I replied. He nodded, and shovelled cereal in his mouth. I had questions buzzing around my head, like a herd of bees, trying to escape. _Stay in there, you morons!_ Even with this shitty attempt to have a conversation, I didn't want to ruin it with my questions. One goddamn buzzing bee escaped his hive, and I was shocked to hear the words come off of my lips. "George, what happened to us?" His gaze was focused on the wall, but his eyes had that expression that he wasn't seeing anything. Know the one I mean? "Probably Lilian," He said We sounded as if we were dead. I twisted the engagement ring on my finger. "We can't change each other's nature, I suppose," George said again, meaning my difficulties with showing weakness. "I think I know what I need to do," I said softly, staring at the ring on my left hand. "What's that?" George asked. I stood up. "I don't think I can stay any longer. Our love has gone to hell," I said. "You know me." _You know me, always running _is what echoed in my head.

George Harrison's POV

"You know me," She said. All of the words kept echoing in my mind. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized she had every reason. "I love you," I said. And I did. "I'm sorry if I did anything to make you doubt that." Holly inhaled "I know," She said. "But I also know I can't stay here anymore" She left me standing there, and I followed her into the bedroom. I watched her throw clothes into that army backpack I've seen on her back so many times. I took in how she looked in that moment, and I don't think it'll ever leave me. She wore a black t-shirt, and jeans that flare out slightly at the end, and they were tight around her thighs. She had her signature silver lightning bolt necklace on, there were rings on her right hand (that was rare, she usually hates rings), and a leather bracelet on her right wrist. Her eyes lingered on the picture on the dresser, and then she looked away. It was from that trip to the beach we took last summer. Holly stood in front of me, and she looked up at me. "There will always be a part of me that will love you, George," She said to me, her voice starting to quaver. "I'll always love you, Holly," I said simply. "Always. And if you ever need someone one to talk to, someone to listen to you and let you do the talking, or-or you just need sex, the door's open." I pulled her into my arms. I felt her drop the backpack, and wrap her arms around me, her hands resting on that one place in between my ribs and my hips. I looked at the wall, and as the tears blurred my vision, it was replaced by memories, more colorful and vivid than they had been in real life. Not what you'd consider important memories, mind you. Just moments where I saw Holly smile. Those were the moments that mattered to me. She let go of me, and I took the moment to wipe my eyes. "This is it, then," I said, my voice cracking. Holly nodded, unable to say anything, fearing to show weakness. When I say weakness, I don't mean it in a bad way. She was always trying to be strong for the rest of us. Holly looked down at her left hand, took off her ring, and set it on the table. "Goodbye, George," She whispered, her choclate eyes swimming with tears. Holly picked up her backpack, and put it on her shoulder. I watched her as she walked out the door, symbolically and literally closing the door on us, although I didn't understand the symbolism until much later. "Goodbye, Holly," I whispered.


	30. Chapter 30

_Chapter 30, Beatle People!_

**Chapter 30**

**Cold Turkey**

I hitch-hiked into London, where the guy let me off. "Thanks Mister!" I called. I went into a the first store I saw and borrowed the phone. "Paul?" I asked, trying to hide the tears from my voice. "Hi, Missy!" He said. Once, when I first moved in to the McCartney house all those years ago, we pretended to be twins. He called himself by his given name, James, and I was Missy McCartney. We went on like that for a week until we gave up James and Missy forever for the familiar identities of Paul and Holly. Ocassionally, he still called me Missy. "Can I come over?" I asked. "I need a place to stay." I usually didn't like to go visit Paul, since he lived with the Ashers. I always thought it was awkward, but I really needed Paul right now, more than ever. "Where are you?" He asked. "I'll get you." I explained where exactly I was, and I hung up. I turned around, and started to leave, but the guy who owned the place decided I needed to pay him for using the phone. I grumbled, and forked over some money. I saw Paul pull up, and I forgot about human stupidity for a moment, and ran across to him. He instantly knew there was something wrong with me, on instinct. "What happened, love?" He asked as I climbed into the passenger seat. "G-George and I broke up," I choked out, and threw my backpack in the backseat. I held back the tears no more, and just let the waterfall go. In between hiccups, I explained the night to Paul. "I was sure that you two would be together forever," He said simply. "I think we were too," I sniffled. "Now it all makes sense to me. I was confused as to why you need a place to stay!" Paul said. We sat in relative silence for the rest of the ride, and I tried to contain the tears that were now streaming down my face in two rivers. We got to the Ashers house, and Paul told me to stay in the car at first, and he ran inside quickly. I watched the rain trickle down the windsheild, my eyes on one single drop until it hit the bottom, where I'd find a new one. Paul came running back to the car with his coat comically pulled over his head, forcing him to bend his neck. He pulled the car door open. "It's safe. You sleep in the attic." I pulled my backpack from it's place on the backseat, and ran with him through the rain. Inside, though, I felt so out of place. I got the feeling that I was intruding upon the Ashers. I got a nod and a hello, and Paul showed me my new temporary digs. "I'll be back in a moment," He said, and ran back down. I knew it was early yet, but I just felt like the shittiest piece of shit in the whole world. I threw on my sweat pants- er, they used to be sweat pants, and a t-shirt. Funny story about those sweat pants. One night I got really hot, so I decided to turn them into shorts. Then, as a joke, John, Paul and George cut them even shorter. Now they barely came passed my ass. Paul returned again. "Sleepover!" He said, throwing another pillow onto the bed for me. I rolled my eyes. "Come on Paul, I won't try anything tonight." "This is my room, you're my friend, you're hurting, and I'm staying the nght with you," Paul said. He got in bed, and patted the side next to him. "You aren't escaping so easy, Missy, so get in." I sighed and crawled under the covers, and snuggled up next to him. "You're warm," I said. "You're cold," Paul replied, putting an arm around me. I laughed a little. "Goodnight, James," I said, turning over. "Goodnight, Missy," He whispered. I don't quite remember falling asleep that night, but I guess I did. With my eyes closed, I remember pretending that I was breathing in George's scent instead of Paul's. That weird mixture of cigarette smoke and... something else, but I've never identified it. Ahh...

George Harrison's POV

The sound of the front door shutting kept playing over and over and over.

_Slam. Slam. Slam._

I decided that I didn't want to let my mind wander on it's own. I hated where it was taking me. To memories that set me on fire with desire.

_Slam. Slam. Slam._

I got into bed, and buried my face deep into the pillow. I stretched my leg out, expecting it to overlap Holly's thigh, but it hit cold matress. I heard her laugh in my head, and next she said Quit it, moron.

_Slam. Slam. Slam._

That's it. I can't do it. I got up and wandered out to the kitchen. I picked up the phone, and dialed John. He was like an older brother, and I was sure that Holly went to Paul. He is her best friend, after all. "This had better be good," John said. I wondered how he knew it was me. "Me and Cyn-" I rolled my eyes, though he couldn't see me. "Can I stay at your place for the night?" I asked. "Doesn't Holly want to 'twist and shout' tonight, Geo?" He asked. I could almostsee his smirk. "She left me, John," I said.

_Slam. Slam. Slam._

"Hey Geo," He said. "Hello John," I said. "D'you want to talk about it?" He asked. "No, I just want to turn in. Besides, sounds like you and Cyn were pretty busy," I replied. "Right. Well, welcome to your room," John said, leading me to the first door in the hallway. I opened it. "Wait a minute..." There were posters all over the wall, Buddy Holly, Elvis, you name it. There was a picture on the dresser that looked suspiciously like the one on my dresser, and there was women's clothes all over the floor. "Really, John?" I asked. He shrugged. "Only spare bed here. If you want the couch-" I sighed. "I guess I can do it," I reasoned. "I'll only be sleeping." John nodded. "Sleep well, son," He said, putting a hand on my shoulder. He squeezed it briefly, and ventured further down the hallway. I flipped on the light, which illuminated more pictures, and a record player with a huge box of records next to it. I thumbed through them, and I'll pulled one out.

_That'll be the day when you say goodbye-hi. That'll be the day when you make me cry-hi, 'cause that'll be the day-hay-ay when I die. _

I ripped the record off the player as a memory came flooding to my mind.

_She was in the shower, and I heard her voice. "That'll be the day, hoo-hoo-" "That'll be the day, hoo-hoo!" I called back. Her head poked out from the curtain. "Shut up and get it," She said with a smile. Clothes, be gone... I hopped in. "That'll be the day, hoo-hoo-" I sang, but she pinned me against the wall, and placed her lips on mine-_

I shook my head, trying to shake it from my mind. I climbed into bed, but the whole bed smelled like Holly. Cinnamon and burning cigarettes. I shut my eyes tightly. God make it stop...

_Slam. Slam. Slam. _


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

**Getting Better (Reprise)**

I woke up in the early hours of the morning, 6 o'clock to be exact a glance at Paul's clock confirmed. Paul's warm arms were encircled around me, and with my eyes closed I pretended George was holding me instead of Paul. But with my eyes now open and fully awake, I was reminded that last night had not been a dream that we could laugh over in the morning, it was reality that left us in shambles. I tried to shrug out of Paul's unconscious embrace, but he stirred in his sleep at my sudden movement. "Awake already?" His groggy voice sounded, eyes still closed. "Guess so. Never thought you'd see me so awake before 9, huh?" I asked. "Be straight with me, Holly." Fucking psychic. "I was having dreams about George," I reworded. "What about?" Paul asked me, removing his arms from around my torso. "Just memories playing over and over. Nothing spectactular," I laughed in spite of being sleep deprived. "Tell me," Paul said. "Exorcise them." I took in a breath. "Driving. Laying in bed. All laughing. But it was as if I was reliving them in Technicolor, and I could smell all the fresh grass, or cigarette smoke or whatever," I tried to remember the contents of my dream. Paul just held me again. That was what I needed, not words telling me it's going to be alright, when he doesn't know for sure. "Race you to breakfast," Paul said out of nowhere. And we were off in a flash.

George Harrison's POV

She was everywhere. In this room, in this bed, in those pictures, and in my head. Holly was haunting me in my dreams, looking so carefree while laughing in the passenger seat of the car. I closed my eyes again. _Why did you fall in love with your best friend, Harrison? _**_Because she's gorgeous, funny, easygoing, the embodiment of_** **the****_ girl_****!** My mind feuded with itself. The worst part about loving your friend is that you can't leave and never see her again. She'll always be there, so I have to come to terms with it. I must have accidently left the window open during the night, because a cold gust of wind nipped at my chest. I left the warm protection of her blankets, and went to shut it. My mind wandered to the Christmas presents I had stashed away out of Holly's limited reach. What do I do with those now? Typically, you don't give a few of those to your friend, if you get my meaning. I grabbed my clothes from yesterday which I had layed over a chair. As I buttoned my shirt, I payed closer attention to the pictures that were displayed on her dresser. One had immortalized Morgan, Holly, and Lauren back in school. Another had immortalized her and I, making goofy faces. I crossed my eyes, and she had done something that made her look like some sort of rabbit. Holly and John, Holly and Paul, The Beatles at the Cavern. I finished dressing myself, grabbed my belongings, and left that room, never to see it again.

Holly McFarlane's POV

I threw clothes an books back into my backpack. "Gone so soon?" Paul asked, leaning against the doorframe. "Well, I can't stay longterm, sleeping in a bed with you," I said, shouldering my backpack. "Where're you off to next?" He asked. "Back to John's," I replied. "You know, see what happens next." "Sure," Paul replied. I spread out my arms in the universal gesture for a hug. He wrapped me in his arms. "Give me a ring when you feel down," He said into my shoulder. "Will do." I pulled away and we switched places, him in the room and me in the doorway. I waved. "Farewell, sweet Paulie! Perhaps we shall meet again under better circumstances!" "Goodbye, fair Holly! You are the most beautiful maiden in all of Camelot!" Paul said, playing along with me. I walked to John's, deciding against hitch-hiking. I opened the door. "I'm ho-ome!" I declared boldly from the doorway. And I was.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32  
She's Got The Ticket To Ride**  
~1965~

John Lennon's POV  
"Are you sure you two will be alright?" Cynthia asked one more time, Julian in her arms. "Honestly, Cyn, we'll be fine. We _are_ two grown adults, you know," Holly said. Cynthia was taking Julian to see her mother for a week. Cynthia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but dealing with you three is like being a single mother of three instead of married with one and a roommate." Cynthia leaned in for a kiss, which I gave her. I had been feeling more and more trapped in my marriage and fatherhood lately. It wasn't anything Cyn had done, but then why did I find myself resenting her? I gave Julian a kiss on the top of his head, and they were gone. "Horray! The headmistress is gone, and we can be as bad as we want!" Holly cheered. "You're so queer," I said, but in truth I didn't think she was at all. She was only the female embodiment of myself. Dark, cynical, troubled, confused with her public persona and misunderstood. She was so damn beautiful. I think it all started with that first hug. When she had been in my arms for those five minutes, I realized that I like the way she felt in my hands. Those curves, and the fact that she was wearing those sweatpants-short things, also known as next to nothing... it was no wonder why she had most of the rock and roll population after her. Holly rustling around in her pockets jolted me from my thoughts. Holly pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, took one out, an stuck it between her lips. "Care to share?" I asked. I parted my lips for her to stick one in my mouth. She walked over an opened the window, and I followed. we both stuck our heads out and she lit us both. Holly was busy watching life happen, while I was busy looking at her. She didn't even try to be beautiful, she just was. That was what set Holly apart. She didn't have to try to be beautiful. She just was by nature. Inside and out. She was so confidant, too. Nothing you say will ever phase Holly McFarlane. You can just make her super pissed. She made me want to scream. The one girl I wanted wasn't one of the millions of them that would marry me on command. Damn, sometimes I wished she had the mentality of a gatebird... We like challenging each other psychologically. An ongoing debate was 'Where the hell do you do when you're dead?' Neither of us really had Christian beliefs, so this was perfect for us. On the couch, we were having the discussion again. I sat pretty close to her, and she didn't seem to notice. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I kissed her. I kissed her long and good. I pulled away from it. Holly's eyes grew wide and she froze for a minute. She seemed genuinely surprised. "I-" She started to say, but I cut her off with another kiss. I decided to cut to the chase, and see what she would do. I slid on top of her, and kissed her again, and this time, she gave me something in return, wrapping her arms around me and absentmindedly caressing my hair. I'll admit that I honestly had expected her to punch me and say 'What the fuck?!' and leave, but I wasn't going to object. Heavens no! I pulled her shirt over her head, and my thoughts floated downstream as passion and desire kicked in.

The last one happened to be:

_I want you, I want you so bad..._

_Yes yes, it's short! But it was a little drabble anyway, I had never wrote it as a full chapter. Just exorcising ideas! I'll see if I can give you all a long one in the near future..._


	33. Chapter 33

_Pretty shitty and probably not worth your waiting, but it's what came through my fingertips. I present to you..._

**Chapter 33**

**The Aftermath**

_What did you do what did you do what did you do?_ The thought played like a broken record. I laid on my bed, painfully aware John was laying in his own bed beyond the wall. I couldn't believe what I'd done. My mother's voice was echoing through my head, drunk and spiteful. I could almost smell the 7 year old beer on her breath. _You look like a fucking prostitute, wearing all of that fucking leather! You'll never amount to anything, you'll just be a fucking homewrecker for the rest of your life! I'm embarrassed to call you my daughter! _She was right. I was just a filthy homewrecker, no better than any common whore. I had sex with a married man! My friend's husband! _Oh my God, Cyn. _What do I do about Cynthia? If she ever found out, I'd be out of her house and our friendship over. I suddenly felt really grimy, even though I had taken a shower a couple hours ago. I pulled myself off of my mattress, and walked over to my dresser. I pulled a black t-shirt out of the second-to-top drawer, and a pair of jeans out of the next drawer down. I could just recycle undergarments. I looked up, and was met with that picture of me and George at the premiere for Hard Day's Night. I felt a surge of love and sadness in my chest as George's eyes looked through the glass and into mine. I still loved him. I shook my head, trying to clear his face from my mind. I took my record player from its spot on the little coffee table I had. I crouched down, and took the first record in the box. Buddy Holly and His "Chirping" Crickets. I felt confused. I may not have a great memory, but I swore to God that the first one had been Heartbreak Hotel. I could be mistaken, I suppose. Haven't listened to records in over a month, it now being late January. I balanced all of the items in my arms, and headed off to the bathroom. I set my clothes on the toilet, and my record player with Buddy Holly in it on the counter. I took off my clothes, studying my face in the mirror, trying to find that naive 15 year old from Liverpool who played guitar, listened to records and had her own chair in the principal's office because she was there so much for sarcastic off-hand comments. she wasn't there. All that was there was a 23 year old who was much too world-weary for her age. I stepped into the shower, and felt the warm water drip down my body, my thick brown hair becoming steadily more heavy on my head. Buddy Holly's voice sang to me through the record player. He was God to me when I was a teenager. I loved 'em all, of course, but there was always something about Buddy Holly and The Crickets that I loved most. He never had an off song. I remember wearing black when I found out Buddy Holly had been killed. What a sad day in history.

_All of my love, all of my kisses, you don't know what you've been missing. Oh boy, when you're with me, oh boy! The world can see that you were meant for me._

Without even registering that I was, I heard my own voice join Buddy Holly. "Why weren't you the one to catch the big break?" Noise ceased to exit my lips. "'Cause I knew it would be you," I said. "I wish it was you," John said. I shrugged. "Get out, I'm clean," I said. "I'm not," John said. "No, John," I said, leaning my head against the wall. "Please?" He asked. "This isn't just fucking to me," John added. "Yeah, but in case you haven't noticed, you've got a wife and a son. I'm just not like that, John. Cynthia is a good friend of mine, I can't do that to her," I said back. He didn't say anything back to me, but the sound of a record being ripped off of a player and the loud door slam said all he needed to. "Jesus Christ," I sighed.


	34. Chapter 34

_Sorry about the lack of update. I was bitten by the bug known as writer's block, and I've been afflicted with the sickness it bares for days and days and days. _

**Chapter 34**

**Mind Game**s

_God you're an idiot what a moron why did you do that?_ After my shower I sat in the living room, the only noise was my heart beating. John was pouting in his room after my statement. Is there no such thing as being noble in Britain any more? A thought passed through my head, a memory.

"_And if you ever need someone one to talk to, someone to listen to you and let you do the talking, or-or you just need sex, the door's open."_

I wrote a little note, and stuck it on John's door in case he decided to stop being moody.

_ Borrowing the car. Going on a drive. Don't know when I'll be back. Don't eat all of the corn flakes. -H._

I grabbed the keys off of the counter where John had so stupidly left them where I could take them. I sat in the driver's seat, and turned the keys forward. The car sprung to life. I always loved that feeling of being in power of something, going fast, and going nowhere. Paul always told me that one day I'd kill myself. "I don't understand how you haven't gotten a ticket or your license suspended or _something_!" He always said when we drove together. "Because I drive on the backroads, Mr. Swinging London Socialite!" I'd retort. He usually just laughed instead of carrying on the argument, we couldn't really argue with each other anyway. I pulled into the driveway I had pulled into so many times before. I could have done it in my sleep. I opened the door; just like George to leave it unlocked. I walked swiftly over to his sitting form on the couch, and sat on his lap. I wrapped my legs and arms around him, and kissed him. _Oh, I've missed him..._ George broke it off once the kiss had reached it's climax. "Is this a dream?" He asked, his hands still on my waist. "Do I need to give you a bloody invitation to fuck me?" I asked. "No, this is real," He decided, and roughly crashed his lips to mine again. I unbuttoned his shirt, while he just sort of ripped at my t-shirt until he heard a satisfying rip. My shirt laid in shambles on the floor below us, but that was beside the point at the moment. George pushed me onto my back, and unzipped my jeans as he kissed my neck. "What a multi-tasker you are," I said. "I'm doing all of the work here," He said in between kisses. "I feel rather neglected." George's hands pulled my pants off and tossed them somewhere behind him. His focus was now purely on my bra. I rolled my eyes. "Want some help?" I asked as I took his clumsy fingers off of the back of my bra and unhooked it for him. "You'll always make fun of that, won't you?" George asked, slowly moving his lips down my body. "Most likely," I replied as I got around to taking his pants off. My mind went on sex autopilot as our lips met again, and the last rational thought I had that crossed my mind was _God, this is where I'm supposed to be._

...

I woke around three in the morning. My vision slowly adjusted, and I remembered that I had very impulsively came over to George's for sex. I was in his bed, my clothes in a heap to my left. He must of carried me here afterwards when I had fallen asleep. He was snoring softly beside me. If I used my imagination, it was 1964. I slowly got out of bed to keep from waking him and the cats, who were sleeping at the foot of the bed as always. I dressed myself, and as I picked up my shirt, I remember that he had ripped it. I sighed in frustration, walked over to the dresser and opened the drawer where I knew he kept his shirts. After nearly a month, there was still a space that all of my t-shirts used to call home. I picked out a white t-shirt and pulled it over my head. It was a little too wide and bit too long, but it fit nicely. I didn't bother to pull my long hair out of the neck. I walked into the kitchen, and wrote him a short note.

_ Thanks._

_Love from Girl_


	35. Chapter 35

_I'm not sure how happy I am with this chapter, but oh well. You're getting it anyways._

**Chapter 35**

**How Do You Do It?**

Cynthia and Julian returned back not long afterwards. It was hard to even look at her for the first day she was back, and an extreme wave of guilt swept over me. With John out doing God-knows-what, it was only Cynthia and I. "Cyn?" I asked. "Yes?" She asked, sitting across from me. "Can I tell you something?" I asked her. Was I going to do this? "You know you've always been able to," Cynthia said. "I-I had sex with George," I told her, not being able to tell her about John. George was definitely half of it. "Really?" She asked. "I know he told you that, but I never-" "Me either," I interrupted. "Now I can't get the git out of my mind!" "You just need to occupy yourself, so you don't have time to think about him. You've just been bumming around here with me," Cynthia suggested. "How did I not think of that?" I asked myself aloud. "Sometimes you need someone else's perspective on a problem," Cynthia replied. "Cyn, if I had -hypothetically- done something really really bad, would we still be friends?" I asked her. I looked down at the tea she had made me that I hadn't even touched. There wasn't even any more steam wafting up at me. "Holly, we'll always be friends. I don't care what you've 'hypothetically' done. Friends forgive each other for bad things, just like you'd forgive me." When Cynthia said that, it was because she knew that I would, not that she was putting words in my mouth or anything. "Besides, we're Beatle wives, we all have to stick together!" I raised an eyebrow. "You and Paul," Cynthia said with a mischievous smile. I hit her. "You're as bad as them!" I exclaimed, putting a hand over my mouth. "You've gone to the dark side!" I felt so much better, as our conversation dissolved into jokes and laughter. I ended up falling asleep on the couch that night for some reason. Perhaps it had been the wine, maybe I nodded off while watching the telly, who knows. What I do know is that I woke up to John beating me with a pillow. "Rise and shine, love!" He said, throwing in a few punches to boot. "I'd hate to be late!" I half-consciously kicked him. "Lateforwha'?" I moaned. "New album, baby! The Beatles live on!" John said with false cheer. I remembered that they were starting a new album, although I had no clue what it was called. I had forgotten, but was now remembering, that since I was single, I could now attend recording sessions again. "Lemmegetdress," I said, swinging my legs over the side of the couch. "I knew you'd be slow this morning, I already got something out for you," John said, gesturing to the pile of clothes on the table. It was a white t-shirt, jeans, and he had a little pile of jewelry on top (my rings, one index and one thumb, my leather bracelet, and my lightning bolt necklace). On the floor below the clothes stood a pair of boots. "How incredibly helpful of you," I said, taking his hand to help me up. There was a beating on the bathroom door as I tried to get dressed. "We don't have all bloody day!" I rolled my eyes. "Isn't your motto 'fashionably late'?" I asked sarcastically. "Be out here before I must knock down the door!" John said in a voice that resembled the police. I was out, and I sat at the table, taking my sweet time tying up my boots. John strolled over to me, and took the laces out of my hands. Yes, he tied my shoes for me. He finished tying my right boot, and our eyes met for 5 seconds, but that was all he needed to get my brain fucked up. I looked away, and- you know that feeling in your mouth when you've got a million things to say, and they're all competing to be said aloud? That's what it was. "Let's get going, then," John said. I could tell by his tone that he was struggling too. Every feeling I had for him when I was 18 came rushing back. I nodded. "Fashionably late," I said. "Fashionably late," John agreed.

...

_"My baby don't care. My baby don't care."_

I shook my head, and left the studio. I took a cigarette out of the crushed pack in my back pocket, and lit. I leaned my head against the wall, closed my eyes and took a long drag. I let the smoke fall out of my mouth like a waterfall. "Fuck him," I said aloud. I did _too_ care, but I also saw all of the things we both could lose. I sensed another being smoking next to me. I opened my eyes, and George was looking down the street and taking a drag. I got this sick feeling in my throat. "Geo?" I asked. "Yes?" He said, taking his cigarette out his mouth. "Can I tell you something?" I asked him. _I'm going to do this. I'm going to do this_. "Tell me. You know you can tell me anything," George replied, walking closer to me. I wasn't sure why I felt such an obligation to tell George about me and John. Maybe it was because I still was in love, I don't know. _It's like how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? The world may never know_. I took another drag, and then returned my attention on George. "You know that song John just played?" I asked. "Yeah. Ticket to Ride, I like that one," George replied, turning his cigarette in his fingers. "I got the ticket to ride." George threw his cigarette down. "That isn't even like you! You're one of the most monogamous people I know! John, yes. You, no," George fumed. "It was so fast," I said. I leaned my head against the wall. "One minute we were just talking, then he was taking my pants off- I don't know, I guess I'm just an idiot." George kissed me. "Stop that. You're one of the smartest people I know," He said. "Thanks for being honest, though." George walked down the street, glancing back at me once before just becoming a dark silhouette. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. "Fuck love," I said.


	36. Chapter 36

_Yes yes, before you start with me about not updating, let me feed you some crappy excuses. First off, I think my teachers all got together and planned "Ok, let's all have projects due on Monday and Tuesday. Ready, break!" Secondly, I've just had a huge case of writer's block. Writing at least 3 stories at once is hard, and one is for school, so obviously fanfiction was at the bottom of my totem pole. Ok, I'm done now. Proceed. _

_Oh, yeah, remember to review. They put the button there for a reason!_

**Chapter 36**

**Help! (I Seriously Need Somebody!)**

This album, now popularly called Help!, was finished. It was one of my favorites, both Paul (Yesterday, I've Just Seen a Face) and George (I Need You) had some real smasharoo songs on there. John too (Help!, Ticket to Ride, You've Got to Hide Your Love Away), but those stood out in my mind. And, naturally, The Beatles were to start filming a new movie. They were pretty much travelling all over the fuckin' place. They wanted to go to the Bahamas, so Dick Lester said "Sure, we can do that", so there is officially a scene in the movie where they get to travel to the Bahamas. John and, oddly, Brian Epstein, both approached me and asked me to go globetrotting with them on this film. "I'll go out of me head out there, come with please?" John pleaded. I snorted. "Whatever. You have pot, you'll all be stoned out of your minds, you don't need me." Ah, yes. I forgot to mention earlier the pot. The lovely, wonderful Bob Dylan introduced The Beatles to marijuana in New York in '64. They came home, and got the rest of us to try it. Neither Cyn or I liked it much, Cyn even less than I. I would smoke it if I had to, but I mostly stuck to ciggies and kept off the hard stuff. Cynthia wouldn't touch it at all. "It isn't like you!" John protested. "You could hallucinate me if you wish," I said. "Come on, please?" He asked. "I'll think about it," I said, and I left the studio. On my way out, though, I ran into Eppy. Literally. "Whoops! Sorry to ruin yer suit, Eppy," I said. He almost rolled his eyes, and said "That's quite alright, Holly, I was looking for you anyways." I raised my eyebrow. "Oh?" He took a second to straighten his tie, which wasn't quite aligned, and then he came out with it. "Will you come filming with us?" Brian asked. "Funny, Lennon just asked me the same thing," I remarked. "I suspect that they'll be less likely to do something stupid if you come," Brian said. I sighed. "Fine! I'll just put my life on hold and go on this bleeding trip!" John came out with his things, and asked "What life?" I replied "Me shop!" "Oh, the one you visit for about 2 hours everyday?" John asked me. "Yes, that's me shop! Inattention is the main thing!" I joked, and we were off for home. "Thanks," John said later. "I really would go mad by meself." So, that's how I ended up watching them film Help!, went all over the fuckin' world, and then some. It was all fine and well until the Bahamas. I'm never going to the fucking Bahamas ever again. You can't even pay me to. It all started out with some innocent drinks, and some not so innocent guys having too many of them. That reminds me over another incident, but that doesn't take place for another few months for the sake of this story. Let's just say about the Bahamas, that it amazes me how drunk people can agrue about so many things that go in their lives, as if their sober.

Now, here's one I can go into detail with. You're going to love this,it's a bloody hilariousstory. A few months after we finished filming, movie came out, fans loved it, etc. etc., it was time to play concerts again. I was invited to go with The Beatles to New York. They were going to be playing in Shea Stadium, which had never been done before by another act, rock or otherwise. This was actually the first concert I'd attended by The Beatles since the Cavern Club days. I was shoved in between a whole lot of mad fangirls, who were screaming and fainting away. One of them was sane enough to ask me why I wasn't going wild. "I've known them for a very long time," I replied. "The thrill wears off." Her eyes widened. "Are you Holly McFarlane?!" She asked. I sighed. "The one and only, at your service." I bowed slightly, as much as the two mad girls in front of me would allow. "You're just like they say you are in the papers!" She exclaimed. "All good things, I hope?" I asked. "Oh yes," She told me. "They have field days with it." She said her name was Maggie. "Isn't the music wonderful?" Maggie said whistfully. "I can't hear a damn thing, I don't know what you all are screaming about," I replied. "I'm not even quite sure what song is playing." "I'm Down," Maggie said, and she screamed with them. I sighed, and tried to drink some of my Coke without spilling it all down my shirtfront. Other than the experience of being one of the girls, it was fun. The boys were certainly having fun, it seemed. When it was over, it certainly proved a task to get out of there without breaking a bone or ripping my poster. Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you. I made a poster designed to embarrass the 4 men that the world was so hopelessly infactuated with. It said something like '**John** is a very annoying wit that you can't help loving (no matter how much you want to punch him), **Paul** is the greatest friend ever (beware, though, he enjoys the girls, you'll lose that one at a party), **George** is an amazing lover (wink wink), and **Ringo** is fun to drink with (you'll be driving home). _Love From Holly (Yes, you can kill me when we get back to England; it's illegal here!)_

After that nightmare, we got back to our prison maserquading as a hotel. "What'd you think?" George asked as he poured him and me drinks. It was just us. They were all so sweaty when we got back that I had assumed they were melting. George had been the first to shower. "Couldn't hear a fucking thing," I said, drinking my whiskey and Coke. "Me either, but you know how it is," He said. "I guess the girls could." I laughed a bit. "Did you see my sign?" I asked. George chuckled. "Yes, I did. I won't kill you in England. I'd be stricken with grief," George said. "Yer mummy'd have to come by and feed you. You'd be bedridden," I said. "You know me too well," George said, and we sat down and talked for awhile until all of the men occupying the showers emerged from the soak. Then, the passing of the marijuana started. I politely declined, and retreated to my room to write my short story I had been working on for the past couple of weeks. The muffled giggling penitrated my writing barrier, and gave me the hugest case of writer's block in the world. I laid on my bed, and tried to get my own high from the record player on my table. There were three knocks on my door, and a pause, and three more knocks, which interrupted my thoughts and musings. "Holly?" Funny, he didn't even sound high. I opened the door. "Yes, Geo?" I asked. That stupid, disgusting, grotty, _stupid_ smell of pot smoke wafted into my room, nothing like the delishious smell of cigarettes. "Can we talk?" He asked. I stepped back, and spread my arms apart. "Welcome to my sanctuary," I said. George sat on my bed, but he neglected to shut my door. "Listen, I've been thinking again," George started. "Oh God please help us," I mock-prayed. "I know I've sinned, but _man_-" "Oh, shut yer gob," George said. "Anyway, I've been thinking about... About us. That sex, even though it wasn't the best of circumstances to shag in, I woke up. That's what it sort if felt like to me, anyroad." I lifted an eyebrow, trying to see if he was actually going to suck it up and say what he wanted to say. "What I'm attempting to ask is if you'd consider us getting back together," George finished. There was a rather high John Lennon in the doorway, who announced rather loudly "_TOO BAD SHE'S ALREADY FUCKING ME, HARRISON!" _Ringo and Paul's gazes immediately shifted in our direction. I'm not one to blush, but I turned a deep crimson, but the embarrassment was quickly replaced by blind rage. "Fuck you, Lennon!" I yelled, and pushed pass him. I pushed my way out, and I was swearing at my best. The air nipped at my nose, since it was now late into the night (or was it morning?). I pulled a cigarette out of my pants pocket, and lit. I took the world's longest drag known to man, and exhaled all of my anger, and smoke, of course. Paul came out after me. "Holl-" "I don't need any of your shit, McCartney," I snapped. He looked hurt, but said "I'm not here t'yell at you. I just wanted to talk." I looked at him. "I don't think I can do this anymore," I whispered. "Yeah, it gets to be pretty overwhelming, doesn't it?" Paul agreed. "No, Paul. I mean, I think I need to get away. From all of this bullshit," I said. "Holly, he was high out of his fucking mind," Paul said. "You can't leave. You're what keeps my feet on the ground. You remind me 'Hey, you may be bass player in the Beatles, and that's great, but back here, you're just another guy from Liverpool.'" I sighed. "I know, but that's not all. It's just the final straw. I need something different for awhile, just be Holly and no one else." I paused. "This isn't the last time, Paulie," I promised. "I'll be back again. I'm like a fucking boomarang, you can't shake me." Paul laughed shakily. "Hug for the road?" He asked. I pulled him close to me, and inhaled his scent. Paul kissed the top of my head. "Don't go getting yerself killed, alright?" He said. I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Seargeant." I pulled away, and we both headed back up the elevator. I burst back into my room, and packed up all of my things into my bags. I stood at the door I'd be using to take a temporary leave of absense from the Beatles. "Tell Eppy I'm sorry!" I yelled, and I slipped into the night.


	37. Chapter 37

_I thought I'd be a little quicker for you lot this time :)_

**Chapter 37**

**Home**

I've been in New York for nearly three months, and I haven't seen The Beatles, Brian, Mal, or Neil since that night. Living on my own was exactly what I needed, and it felt marvelous. I didn't have any burdens, I had no regrets, I didn't think my roommate might randomly demand sex (although John had so far respected that I wanted to leave it with that moment of weakness). The day Lauren randomly demands sex from me, well, that'll be the day-ay-ay that I die! I had phoned and told my London store that I'd be taking a leave of absense, and no, I didn't know when I'd be back. William (one of my employees) said he'd be fine, God bless him. I stayed with Morgan that first night, because Lauren is even less capable of comforting someone than I. I spilled to her entirely, and she was surprised, but helped me a lot. I left Morgan's rather early, and Lauren woke up to me reading on her couch. I've been staying the second room in her apartment for the last three months, and she hasn't complained once. To make up for my absense in London, I visited the original New York store with Lauren everyday. I was very into the New York scene, it seemed like everything was happening. You might even say I was _happy_ in New York. But I was homesick, not consciously so, but I was in the back of my mind. I went driving in Lauren's car, which we now shared. New York has a lack of countryside, and I had to regulate my speed drastically. I turned on the radio. "The Beatles' new album, Rubber Soul, has reached number one on the charts." I half expected him to say 'top of the pops', but _Welcome to America_, _Holly_! It reminded me sadly of the old days before a gig, when John would ask "Where are we going?" and Paul, George, and Ringo replied "Toppermost of the Poppermost, Johnny" I sighed whistfully. "Here's a song from that new album for you! This one's called 'Norwegian Wood'." The song played, and to this day, it actually still is one of my favorites. I could sense the Dylan in the song, but still, it was unlike any other pop song I'd heard. How many guys have songs out there like this? I didn't think this one was me, some other woman that John was here today with and gone tomorrow. It made me wonder what the rest of the album was like. I drove home, and that weird instrument on the record was echoing in my ears. It wasn't any sound a guitar could make, I'd explored all the possibilities. "You've got a package, Holl," Lauren said from the kitchen. There, sure enough, was a package addressed to Holly McFarlane, and I could tell it was from Britain, because my address was "New York, NY, USA". I shredded it open. There was another wrapped flat thing, and a note. 'It's sort of our unsung tradition, no use in breaking it now. Send me back something so I know you're still alive. -Geo PS, How'd you like my sitar?' A sitar! That's what it was! They had one of those things In a scene in Help!. I tore the brown paper off of the flat thing, which revealed an album with a distorted cover photo of John staring up at me, with George, Paul, and Ring looking on. In orange lettering, the album declared 'Rubber Soul'. I grinned. I immediately retreated to my room to find something stupid to send to George. A large pile of dirty clothes was on the floor in front of me, and I had the perfect idea. 'Of course I'm alive, you git! Please wash and fold (haha)! -H PS, thanks for the album. No use in ruining traditions, this way I get a free _British_ Rubber Soul! PPS, I like the sitar.' I stuffed as many dirty clothes into a small box as I could along with my little note. I sent it off in the mail. "Well, what're you standing 'round for? Put that record on the player!" Lauren explained. I pulled out the circular vinyl, and set it on the player. Lauren and I both sat down, and that's all we did for an hour. We listened to Rubber Soul over and over. "I need to get home," I said when the final chord had died. "Yeah, you do. Isn't it painfully obvious they're going mad without you?" Lauren asked. "A little," I replied. The next week, I walked off of a New York flight at London Airport. I was finally home.


	38. Chapter 38

_I don't really like this chapter, but I beat it to hell anyways. Read away, read away, read away, yes, read away-hay (sorry it's stuck in my head!)!_

**Chapter 38  
In Spite of All The Danger**

George Harrison's POV  
Something moving in my bed jolted me awake. My eyes adjusted to the light, and I saw that there was a bird laying next to me. I didn't remember bringing one home- Yes, I know, I felt like John Lennon afterwards too. She shifted again in her sleep, and I discovered Holly McFarlane asleep in my bed. She was always cute when she was sleeping. She looked so completely at peace. Holly sighed, and moved her leg. I furrowed my eyebrows, and got out of bed, ignoring the rush of cold air that met me. I looked at the calendar in the kitchen. Nope, it still said that it was 1965. Now I was just confused as hell. She came out wearing a t-shirt and those sweatpant-short things that always turned me on. Haha, that was a fun joke... We couldn't agree on how short to cut them. She looked at me, and smiled. "Oh, hello," Holly said, walked into the kitchen, got out a bowl, and poured herself some cereal. "Explain?" I asked, and took a little piece of cereal out of the bowl. She kicked me as I put it in my mouth. "Well, I got back last night, had to hitch hike, and without thinking, I told them to take me here," Holly replied as she drowned the cereal in milk. "By the time I got here and thought about it, I was too tired to go anywhere else." I took her spoon and piled some corn flakes into my mouth. Holly punched me. "You bastard!" She laughed as she said it, though. "Anyway, I'll be gone after I eat," she said as she sat down. "How about you stay with me today?" I offered. She was here now, and I didn't want to watch her leave again. "I'm off today, take you out for dinner, y'know, as casual aquaintances?" "Are you paying?" Holly asked. "Er, yeah...?" I trailed off. "Lovely! It's a 'casual' date!" Holly replied, using air quotation marks. "We have a whole day to spend, girl," I said. "What d'you have in mind?" She kicked back into deep thought, with her legs across my lap. I had to admit, I already had a nice view of how I wanted this day to go, but being the good host that I am, I let her choose. "I've got it!" she exclaimed, and you could almost see the lightbulb over her head. "Remember that one tree?" She asked. "Hmm," I said, stroking a non-existant beard. "That tree, one that other tree, or was it that tree's brother-" My shoulder started throbbing in pain. "That one that you wouldn't let me climbing because I was pregnant, you git!" Holly exclaimed. Oh. That tree. I only nodded. "Well, we're going to go climb it today," she said. I smiled. "As Her Majesty wishes," I replied. "Shut up," she muttered. We both went, and got dressed. Holly looked so carefree, a look I had not seen on her in a long time. It was how she was supposed to be, though. She was wearing a red t-shirt with a white button-down shirt and a pair of straight jeans. Her hair was up in a braid. No make up, even though what make up she usually wore was minimal. It looked nice, though. She had looked so dark (for lack of a better word) the last time I had seen her. As for me? Just a button-down shirt and jeans. "You are not driving," I said as we reached the car outside. "I want to see the light of another day." She laughed a fake laugh. She was on the receiving end of many bad driver jokes. What a speed demon. "There would be a mass breakout of teenage suicides, mostly made up of the female gender," Holly said, like a reporter on the telly. "Beatle George Harrison will be dearly missed. Now let's refer to the chart to my left, 'how the love is destributed between Beatles': 45% for Paul, 46% for John, and 9% for Ringo." I laughed, and switched on the radio. "What do you fancy?" I asked as I turned the knob. "Don't care!" I heard. I sighed, and settled on a station, even though they were playing "Nowhere Man". I looked to my right, and noticed Holly had her head out the window. Her hair was blowing behind her in one beat braid. I mock-petted her. "Nice doggy!" I said. She looked back at me and sarcastically started shaking her leg. She pulled herself out the window, and was currently sitting on the door with only her legs in the car. "Look, Georgie!" Holly exclaimed. "I'm flying!" "Get back in here! You'll break a hip!" I scolded. Holly reluctantly pulled herself back into the car and sat like a good girl. I pulled over. "You had to pull me in when you knew there were only 5 minutes left on the drive?" Holly growled. "They should have called you the responcible Beatle." "Excuse me for being concerned about my best friend," I said. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, she was racing to the tree, her voice echoing back to me. "Last one there has to kiss Mick Jagger's bony arse!" I sighed, accepting before I even started running that I had to kiss Mick Jagger's arse. Damn her. I scrambled up the tree after her. Holly was high up, too. She had managed to find the highest branch that could still sustain our body weights. I sat down next to her, not saying a word. She didn't even look at me, just whispered "Don't you feel on top of the world, Geo?" I did. I finally saw the beauty of nature, all of the things she had been seeing all her life. Holly had an great-aunt Katie, who was extremely laid back and almost a gypsy. She and Holly went on trips together, her aunt got her into this nature stuff. It felt as if it were all around us, and we were so small. The endless grass and trees and flowers and life weren't swallowing us, though; we were all one. I nodded wordlessly. Holly placed her hand on mine. "This is life," I said softly. "This is life," she agreed. She took her hair out and let the sea of brown and golden waves (where the sun was hitting it) swim around her face. I think that's how I'll think of Holly McFarlane, when she comes up. Her shirt was flying behind her. I kissed her cheek. She turned, and kissed me. In that moment, we both knew full well that the other still loved us. I had to keep a firm grip on an odd branch to keep from falling to my doom. She broke the kiss, and grinned. I smiled too. "Look at all the stars." We must have been there longer than I had thought. I pointed. "Big Dipper." Holly looked around for a moment, and pointed in front of us. "Little Dipper." I looked at my watch, still gripping the branch behind me. "8:00," I told her. "Want to go out for a late dinner?" Holly shrugged. "Why not?" she agreed. I carefully climbed down the tree, although I swear to this day she jumped all the way down. We drove back into civilization, though I could tell both of us were still up in that tree. I know Holly can ignore it, and thinks it's a waste of time, but I was _starving_. Some git must of decided 'Let's play Beatles when George Harrison is driving!' Paul sung about lost love, and I commented on my thoughts, but Holly was already asleep. I pulled into the restauraunt I had had in mind, and shook her gently. "Wake up, love," I said softly. "Mmghfyk," Holly mumbled. "Time to eat," I told her in the same voice, a if she was a child. We got a table, an I paid off the waitress not to say anything about my (or Holly's, for that matter, she's as famous as any of us) presence. We had been idly chatting about cars and making fun of the, er, to put it politically correctly, heavier woman behind me. She was wearing a horrid fuzzy pink sweater and skirt. Holly was looking over my shoulder. I was aware that there was a window behind me, but that didn't bother me. Holly, like I, did NOT need a whole hoard of people to survive. Sometimes she would just stop talking, and get a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes widened. "Holy shit!" She whisper-yelled. I propped a menu up in front of our faces, sheilding our identities from the rest of England. "What?" I asked. Holly only pointed. I looked back over my shoulder, in the direction of her index finger. I saw a guy and girl behind a menu, just like we were. He had a familiar looking auburn head, covered with a Bob Dylan cap, chatting up a blonde bird- Oh shit, which is exactly what I said. Holly nodded. "Two bloody Beatles in the same restauraunt!" she groaned. "We might get lucky," I tried to to reassure her. "In my experience, there is no such thing as luck," Holly disagreed. She was right. Though we were both trying our best to speak in straight, British accents instead of Scouse, we were discovered. A girl behind us saw through our fabrication, and called us out. Seconds later, John and Cyn were busted. We sighed, and ran out of there before the mob caught us. "What does this remind you of?" Holly asked. "My daily life?" I responded, trying to make myself hear over the girls. "I was thinking of our first date, but whatever works for you," she replied. "I know," I told her, as I dove into the driver's seat. "I was being funny." Holly mock-sighed. "George, what do I tell you about being funny?" "I'm not?" I responded tentatively. She nodded. "Good boy." That's what I always loved about our relationship. We could joke with each other and know it was a joke. I stopped back at the house, so she could get her bag, and I drove down to John's. "Well," Holly started, "You still know how to show a lady a good time." I waggled my eyebrows. "I do try." She laughed, and kissed my cheek. "'Night, Geo." I watched her walk away from me again.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

**I'm Looking Through You**

_1966_**  
**

Paul McCartney's POV

I knocked on the door, knowing I could have just walked in, but it was late at night. You never know. Something stopped me though. John drunkenly yelling a sentence that contained the name 'Holly'. Oh hell, bloody, bloody hell... _Please don't be that drunk, PLEASE John.._. I prayed. If Cynthia found out about John and Holly, Holly would go jump in front of a bus. I've seen her like that before, and I never want to see her like that again. I knocked again.

"WHO'S AT THE BLOODY DOOR!" Cynthia's face appeared in the now open door. I started to open my mouth to speak, but Cynthia interrupted me, saying "Holly's in her room." I thanked her, and I dashed up the stairs to Holly's room, and the screaming resumed. I knocked on Holly's bedroom door, so as not to catch her sleeping or naked. It's polite. She lowered her voice five notches, and said "Yes?" I decided to humor her with a falsetto.

"It's Paul!" She opened the door and ushered me in. She was dressed in what I knew she considered comfortable clothes, so I assumed she had been writing.

"How long have they been like that?" I asked.

"Lost track," Holly said quickly.

"I was out on the roof, if you wish to join the fun."

"I suppose," I agreed.

"It looks so beautiful at night," She said. Holly flipped on the radio (it was the Beach Boys), and climbed out the window.

"Bloody hell, how do you get out here?" I asked.

"Mother passed on the short genes," Holly quipped, looking back at me from her laying position on the roof. I took five seconds to look at her. Her eyes shone with a light that added to the edge in her voice that let you know she was mocking you, and it made you sweat. Her hair was up and out of the way ("One day, I'll just shave the bloody mane off!"). Her lips were pulled into that sarcastic grin I knew like the back of my hand. You always knew when Holly was smiling a PR smile or not, because when she was REALLY smiling, her eyes smiled too. I carefully walked over to sit next to her before Holly noticed my scrutinizing.

"Cor!" She said. "It's freezing!" Instinctively, I put an arm around her, but it didn't feel right. I had only dreamed of doing this for the past ten years, and now that I had a chance to? My bloody thoughts had to interfere. I sighed, and left the arm where it was. I even allowed it to rub her back. Holly snuggled into my side.

"Where's all the sarcasm gone?" I asked her. She picked her head up from my chest.

"You need a shave, Beardly," Holly offered. Again with the 'beardly' and 'mustachio' thing. This is why the Beatles never had mustaches or beards for very long. Holly would berate you until you got sick of it and shaved just so she would stop bothering you about it.

"There's the Holly I know and love!" I thought for a minute. "Do I really?" I asked her.

"Desperately, unless you're going for that Jesus look, I mean, according to John, you _are_ more popular than Jesus," Holly poked fun at our current crisis in the States.

"Bloody git can't keep his mouth shut," I muttered.

"Hey," Holly said. "This is supposed to be a happy place! Let the Beach Boys take you away!" I grinned.

"Big Dipper"


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

**Temptations**

_1967_

This is when Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band came out. Ironically, this is the album The Beatles are known for, yet I don't really care for it. Maybe it's just my anti-style style kicking in, whatever. By now, our lovely George Harrison has emerged into Transcendental Meditation and that other Eastern shit (no offence. Just not my cup of tea). He told the other Beatles about this, and they were all ecstatic: _Now! Finally! A way to get high without using drugs! _So, it was decided upon that they were going to India to Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's camp, with all of the wives/girlfriends. And naturally, I get dragged into it someway or another. I think in a past life John Lennon was a car salesman. He's bloody persuasive as hell.

"Please?" he begged me. Cynthia was out with Jules. And when Cyn was out, John quit the faithful husband/father act (though it was visible he wasn't much of one), and starting hitting on me.

"You know I'm not interested in that Indian shit! Cyn'll be there anyways!" I told him again. "Now go away, you're interrupting my Doors." John got down on his knees beside the desk chair I was sitting it, and put his hands together. "Please, Miss! I'll go mad!" he said in a high voice, in a less Liverpudlian accent. I sighed.

"Fine," I said. "Fine! I'll bloody go! But Lennon, you owe me a huge fucking favor!" He jumped up and grinned.

"Thanks love," John told me as he kissed my cheek.

"Arms that chain! Eyes that lie! Break on through to the other side! Break on through to the other side!" I sang loudly in his ear (completely ignoring the kiss), testing out my Jim Morrison impression I had been working on ever since I had first been introduced to the power of the Doors. John stuck his tongue out at me, and left my room. I sighed and began to shove clothes in a duffle bag for the fucking trip I had never wanted to go on in the first place.

At first, I really did try. Unlike the others, I didn't quite find enlightenment. All I got was frustration. John and Paul tried to talk about the next album, and write songs, but George would get cross with them for that.

"We're supposed to be here to relax, not to work!" he would snap.

"Appears that Georgia here is showing signs of PMS," I whispered to Paul and John, having witnessed this. I had been sitting with them, just listening to them being Beatles and just thinking about the world. They snickered. This is probably one of my better memories of India, I'm afraid. Whenever I remember it, I always think _Christ, what a load of shit._ Not long afterwards, John decided he wanted a room apart from Cynthia (she was 'distracting him' from his 'meditation'). This opened doors and doors of opportunities for him to badger me. He didn't always bother me, don't get me wrong, but sometimes he just didn't understand I had to be alone. I'm a person who has to be by themselves sometimes, otherwise I might very well go mad. I've been like this since I was about 12 years old. Right at this moment I think of, I'm laying on my bed while listening to "NIghts in White Satin" by The Moody Blues. John decided to pop in on me.

"'Ello, love," he said cheekily, sitting down on the bed.

"Must you always pester me?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied. "Just wanted to talk."

I rolled my eyes. "Talk." And he talked. Turns out I'm not the only one who thinks this trip is a load of shit. I started to say something, but a pair of lips from an old memory silenced me. I pushed him off of me.

"Get out," I said calmly.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I wasn't thinking-" I opened the door for him.

"Have a nice night!" I said a (obviously fake) cheery voice. John's shoulders slumped, and he followed my wishes. I banged my head against the wall.

_Nights in white satin_

_never reaching the end_

_Letters I've written_

_never meaning to send_

_Beauty I'd always missed_

_with these eyes before_

_Just what the truth is_

_I can't say anymore_

_'Cause I love you..._


	41. Chapter 41

_Hello, my lovelies! I'm very excited to introduce to you the 41st installment of the Time of My Life! I can't even believe I stuck with this story that long. I wrote this originally a year before I joined , you see. I feel old. But enough of my endless chatter. You came here for a story, which is what I'll give you (I think). Without further ado..._

**Chapter 41**

**He Fell**

A couple days later, I left India. Not my cup of tea. Next, Ringo and Maureen came home. Indian food doesn't quite agree with him. After Ring and Mo came John and Cyn, then Paul and Jane, and finally, George.

I had a nice period of time where I was just by myself. Just Holly. I haven't been 'just Holly' since I was a teenager, and my teenage years were steadily getting further and further away from me. Since no one was home, I just did whatever the hell I wanted. Wake up at 9? Sure. Blast "Pet Sounds" throughout the house? Why not. Go driving at 3 in the morning? Let's do it! I had the freedom to do everything my little mind could dream up!

Everyone came home, though, and ruined my enjoyment of solitude. Naturally, work started on the next album. "The Beatles", they simply called it. I jokingly asked them if the creativity well had run dry, but Paul shook his head.

"There's more where that came from, girl."

But it was extremely painful to watch them record an album this time around. There was so much fighting, and if they started to fight, I would literally just leave. From an early age, I had always hated fighting. Watching it happen to my friends was terrible. It was like watching a divorce. The terrible thing about this divorce, though, is that they were each other's best friends. The band wouldn't be the only thing ending. It was a bitter atmosphere, and I hated it, but all of them told me about how my presence helped things greatly. It's funny how these things work.

Talking about watching a divorce, Cynthia and John were about as distant as distant gets.

"It's hard to imagine that once upon a time, they were a loving couple with a son," I confided with Morgan over the phone.

And it was. I still remember the day. Cynthia and I were idly chatting in the kitchen over tea, and John came in to ruin the day.

"Cynthia, I want to talk to you," he said.

"Alright," she responded.

"I want a divorce," John said bluntly. All of a sudden, I felt like a child. I felt as if they were my parents getting divorced-Oh God. _Jules_.

Cynthia inhaled sharply. "Might I ask why?"

"Cyn, I think I've fallen in love with someone else." I felt like dying when he had said that. Cyn looked like she did as well.

"Who?" she asked with her eyes closed.

"Holly."


	42. Chapter 42

** Chapter 42**  
** Sexy Sadie**  
Finally, a little voice in my head whispered to me, telling me to breathe. I inhaled, and watched Cynthia. Her eyes were still closed as she spoke to me.

"Holly," Cyn said calmly. "Take Julian and leave for tonight. I want to speak with John." I nodded, and went into Julian's room to wake him up.

"Hey Jules," I poked him, knowing he was feigning sleep at this point. "Come on, you and I are going for a little moonlight drive to Uncle Geo's."

He rolled over and rubbed his eyes. "Are Mummy and Daddy coming?" My heart almost exploded in sadness over his childhood innocence.

"No, just you and me love," I answered.

"Can I sleep in the car?" Julian asked, his little brown eyes looking through mine sleepily.

"Yeah," I said. "I'll tell you what, you can even sleep at George's if you want to. But I need you to get up now so we can go."

I pulled him up and out of bed, got him a jacket to wear over his pajamas, and left. the room. Cynthia handed me the keys, and Jules and I left. I bundled him into the backseat, and I got into the driver's side. Julian fell asleep almost instantly, and I was left to drown in my thoughts during the drive to Kinfauns. Literally drown. I looked at Julian sleeping peacefully in my rearview mirror, blissfully unaware of what was happening in his home. I wondered if he would ever blame me for this (inevitable) divorce when he gets older, and I hoped he wouldn't. Desperately. I pulled into George's driveway, and gently shook Julian awake.

"Jules, love, wake up, we're here," I told him. He groggily walked to the front door with me, his hand intertwined in mine. I knocked on the door, and George answered it about 5 minutes later. He looked from me to Julian, and raised his eyebrow inquisitively.

"Ask me later, Mustachio," I told him bluntly. "I'll tell you about it after I put Julian back to sleep in the guest room." George stood aside and let me inside. I led Julian to the room, and got him situated.

"You can go to sleep and stay asleep this time, love," I told him quietly. He smiled sleepily.

I started to leave, but Jules called my name. "Holly?" I turned back around.

"Yes love?" I asked.

"I love you." My heart broke in two. I smile for him, though.

"I love you as well, Jules," I said. I closed the door quietly, and went into the living room, where George was waiting for me.

"Spill," he said bluntly.

"I was talking to Cynthia about life, you know what I mean. And here comes John, and he told Cyn he wants a divorce, and when she asked why, he told her it was because he fell in love with me." The whole story rushed out a mile per minute. "Cynthia told me to take Jules and leave for the night, so I came here."

"Holy shit," George said quietly after a moment of silence.

"I'm going to close my eyes, and you're going to hold me while I pretend the year is 1964," I told him. He did so until 11, when George told me he would get me some clothes to sleep in. He gave me some sleep pants and a white t-shirt. I smiled gratefully.

"Thanks, Geo," I said. "For everything."

I woke up to the sun streaming through the curtains. I growled into the pillow. Why hadn't I insisted on opaque curtains when I lived here?! I looked at the clock, which announced that it was only 7. George was still sleeping, and a peek into the guest room revealed that Julian was as well. I walked into the kitchen, and went through the cupboards, looking for something edible. I finally settled for some fruit, and took an apple. The phone started ringing as soon as I sat down to eat and read my paperback I keep in my secret pocket in my coat. I answered it.

"Hello?" I asked as I finished chewing some apple.

"Holl? Is that you?" a familiar voice said.

"Hey, Stanley! What's up?" I greeted Morgan (long story about the Stanley thing).

"I'm more interested in what's up with you right now," Morgan said. "I called Kenwood, and Cyn told me about it. Figured you would have probably come here. I want you to tell me what happened last night in your point of view." I told her what happened, right up until I got out of bed this morning.

"Holly, do you love John?" Morgan asked.

"I think I always have, even when I was with George," I admitted. "I just think that the love was dormant for years." There was a pause on Morgan's end.

"Do you still have anything for George?" she asked.

"I don't know anymore. If we aren't in public, we kiss and have sex, but we never..." I trailed off.

"Announced anything?" Morgan offered.

"Right! Once, though, he asked me if we could get back together, but I didn't get a chance to answer," I admitted.

"Was that on the one US tour? When they played in Shea?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah. Thanks Morgs, you're wonderful," I told her truthfully.

"No problem." The line went dead. I sighed, and went back to the apple.

At noon, Julian and I left for home. John wasn't there.

"We're going to get divorced," Cynthia said quietly.

"I'm sorry, love," I told her.

"It isn't all your fault. There were a lot of wedges I have been ignoring," Cynthia told me. Her voice sounded like it was dead.

"Listen, if you want to be with John, I get it," Cynthia said.

"No, Cyn, I-" I started, but she interrupted me. "No! He told me about it, he's really in love with you, Holly. Besides, I don't have time to be a bitch. I have a son." I looked at Cynthia.

"You're an extraordinary woman, you know that?" I asked.

Cynthia smiled. "Thank you, so are you."

We hugged, and I knew that she meant everything she said.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

**Tell Me Why**

Still, even though Cynthia told me it was alright to want John, I wasn't about to go running to him. I didn't really think that I should reward him for abandoning his wife and son, and for making it so fucking hard for me to think clearly for almost a decade. Word of the divorce got around like fire in a dry field. Reporters soon joined the gatebirds at Kenwood. I got stopped one day, and this git decided to ask me what happened.

"What do you think about this, Miss McFarlane?" I smiled a big PR smile.

"Well, if you want me to be completely honest, I think you are all daft to try to get this in the papers, and that you're all just a bunch of heartless bastards. That's what I think about all of this," I answered with every fiber of honesty in my body. I fought my way through the rest of the crowd, and left. I had to go see my new flat, which I had hastily purchased the day before. I realized while standing in the middle of my new kitchen that this was the first time I had lived on my own in about five years. It seemed that there was a lot of being alone among all of us in 1968. I sighed, and lit a cigarette. This was a bloody long year. Bloody long indeed. So, about three packs of cigarettes and one bottle of alcohol later, I decided I needed to know. This isn't probably one of my best decisions in my life, to go driving in London while intoxicated at about 11 at night, but you know how it goes, can't change the past. Anywho, I drove to John's new flat. I parked and walked straight in, instead of knocking like I probably should have. Whatever, I was pissed.

"Lennon!" I exclaimed."Lennon, you bloody well better get your fucking arse out here!" I honestly did expect him to be stoned out of his fucking mind, but this was about as sober as I had ever seen him in the ten years I had known him.

"Oh," he smiled. "'Ello love." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Why me?" I asked bluntly. "Why is it always bloody me?"

"Well, in that case, I'll get us some drinks," John said. Back with my drink, John sat down to tell me a bedtime story before I either a.) collapsed from drunkenness, or b.) drove my car into a pole because of my intoxication. Either was a probable outcome.

"Well," he started. "It probably started when I first met you. I had never met a bird like you, but for some bloody stupid reason, I didn't go after you. By the time I had the balls to, I had Cyn, you were with George. I could see that you two were happy, but I always felt a little jealous, and I didn't know why. And then I hugged you that one time, remember that?, and I realized I liked the way you felt in my hands. And I had the sudden urge to see what you'd look like without the t-shirt and sweatpants. But it's bloody dirty to try to go after ye' when you just found out you're pregnant. So I watched, and got drunk and stoned out of my mind. And that night we had together when Cynthia and Julian left? It wasn't just another fling for me, and that was the best night of my life. But I think I've realized what my problem with my marriage to Cyn was. It's sort of like being a recovering addict who's married to Sobriety and is roommates with Heroin. I knew it wasn't going to work, and I'm going to relapse. I'm in love with you, Holly. I think I always have been." I smiled.

"Good for you, John, 'cause you aren't getting shit from me," I said. I drank the rest of my drink in one gulp, slammed the empty glass down on the table, and left. John didn't go after me like I had thought he would, he only watched me as if every step I took hurt him. I didn't look back. To look back was to forfeit my mind and body, and I didn't want to end up like Cynthia (alone with his son to care for, wondering how my marriage was so short when it should have lasted years).


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44  
Give Me Love**

Paul walked in through my door with a large bag slun over his shoulder.

"What's all this?" I asked, looking up from my issue of _Rolling Stone_, my favorite magazine.

"Jane may or may not have walked in on me cheating on her," Paul said slowly, not moving a muscle until I reacted.

"Paul!" I exclaimed.

"I know, I know," he said. "I just- I don't know. I just don't think she's the one anymore." I rolled my eyes.

"Why couldn't you have just broken up like normal couples and remained friends?" I asked.

"Because- I don't know," Paul admitted.

"You're a twit," I told him straightforwardly as I turned my attention back to _Rolling Stone._

"Which brings me 'round to what I'm doing here," Paul said, ignoring my comment. "I need a place to stay." I sighed.

"Welcome home, roomie," I told him. My best friend's face lit up. He walked over to the couch and kissed my cheek after he set down his bag.

"Ta, love," Paul smiled.

"You're lucky I like you as much as I do," I told him, still not looking up. "Wait, what about Martha?" Paul shrugged.

"I'll go back to get her later. Jane just told me to take my shit and leave. I forgot Martha," he admitted.

"You're a great pet parent," I told him sarcastically. Paul stuck his tongue out, and sat down next to me on the couch.

"Well, roomie, what're we going to do today?" Paul asked.

"Don't you have some recording session to go to?" I complained.

"Off. You're stuck with me all day, Missy!" Paul exclaimed cheerily. "Isn't that grand?" I sighed.

"James, you'll be the death of me. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up," I groaned.

"John still driving you mad?" Paul asked.

"Actually, we've barely spoken. But it's just the thought of him. I'm so bloody confused!" I ran my fingers through my wild brown hair madly. "Why'd I have to be a girl?!"

"You'll pull through, you always do," Paul reassured me, rubbing my back. The phone started ringing before I could utter a 'Ta'. Paul jumped up answered it.

"McFarlane/McCartney residence," he answered like a housekeeper. I heard a voice speak on the other end, but it was too muffled for me to identify who it belonged to.

"Oh, I see," Paul replied. "Be careful. She's-" I left to use the loo before I heard the rest of that sentence.

"Can I please put you on hold?" Paul asked, but he saw me reenter. "Oh, nevermind, she's back." Paul handed me the phone.

"Hello?" I answered, playing with the phone cord on my index finger.

"Hi."

"Hello Harri, what is it?" I asked. "I could be sleeping, you know."

"I wrote a song, and I want to play it for you. Would you be interested in driving here?" George asked.

"Oh, what the hell, why not?" I replied. "Sure." I could hear his smile on the other side of the phone.

"Thank you, love. See you soon," he told me.

"Bye Geo." I hung up, and went about getting my things. "Going to Harrison's, I guess," I said to Paul.

"Come home soon," Paul told me while browsing my copy of _Rolling Stone_. I grabbed my motorcycle helmet, and went out the door. I had recently gotten my motorcycle, and I loved it. It was even more fun than driving! Riding a motorcycle was like flying. Especially on the scenic route. I swung my leg over the motorcycle (I named it 'Lucille'), and immediately felt on top of the world. I put on my sunglasses, and we were off. The wind blew my hair away from my face, though I mentally made a note to myself to get it cut (it went well past my shoulder blades, it was time). It was time for me to have my own identity, and not just be another hippie, or that girl that's always hanging out with the Beatles. I wanted to be Holly McFarlane, whoever that was. I wasn't so sure anymore. I think she's a gypsy, who's chained down by possession and love, or a bird with broken wings. Anyways, I could see Kinfauns in the distance, and I started to knock the speed down from 80 so I could make the turn. George was waiting for me, smiling. He looked rather happy actually, which was a difference, since I was used to seeing him go at it with Paul or John at the studio.

"You're going to kill yourself someday on that thing, you know," George told me as I pulled in.

"That's alright, sounds like a pretty alright way to go," I replied, taking off my helmet. "But you didn't pull me away from _Rolling Stone_ so we could discuss my reckless driving like my sister, did you?" George laughed and shook his head.

"Not in the slightest. Let's go inside."

I stepped in the door, instantly surprised how much the place hadn't changed for all those years. Tangerine came and greeted me at the door by rubbing against my legs. I rubbed her cheek, something I remembered her liking. She purred loudly as George shut the door behind him.

"Cor, she sounds like a bloody motor," I remarked. "Where's Little Guy?" I asked after a moment.

"Ehm, about that," George said slowly. "He ran away a few nights ago, and I couldn't find him."

"Oh," I replied softly.

"If it makes you feel any better, I wandered around for hours in my underwear and a t-shirt calling for him," George told me. "An it was bloody cold."

I smiled a little. "Well, let's get on with it, then," I said, standing up from my crouching position next to Tangerine.

"Tea?" George offered.

"Sure," I accepted, even though I was in more of a Scotch and Coke mood. I sat down with my tea, and got into a music critic state of mind.  
George Harrison's POV  
I saw her close her eyes, which is what Holly does every time she hears a song for the first time, so she can visualize it. I sighed, and got ready to play the song for her. I had already decided that this was an acoustic song, so she wasn't missing anything. I was conflicted about playing this song for Holly because I knew she was having a really hard time with her thoughts about John, and I didn't want to throw myself into the mix. But introversion got the best of me. Paul seemed to read my mind, and told me to be careful. I took another deep breath, and started to play.

_It's been a long, long, long time  
How could I ever have lost you  
When I loved you?  
Take a long, long, long time  
Now I'm so happy I've found you  
How I love you  
So many years I was searching  
So many tears I was wasting  
Oh, oh!  
Now I can see you be you  
How can I ever misplace you?  
How I want you  
Oh, I love you  
You know that I need you  
Oh, I love you_

I finished the song, and looked for an answer in her eyes. They were blank, as if she were in another universe, and I knew that she had comprehended what I was saying.  
"What do you think? Do you think it's good enough for the album?" I asked her softly.  
"Yes," Holly said equally soft. "I need to go, Paul will starve if I don't go feed him." Like a good gentleman who doesn't invite his ex-girlfriend over to tell her he still loves her when she's battling feelings for another guy, I showed her to the door. Holly put on her helmet, and roared away on her motorcycle. I watched the dust settle, and I sighed. Once again, I watched her leave me.


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

**Do You Love Me Like You Know You Want to Do?**

"Come on Holl, if we get a tree we have to have a party. It's science!" Paul complained.

"I don't wanna," I groaned while trying to see around Paul's legs so I could watch "Holiday Inn" like I had been before he came to bother me. "I don't want to see John if he's just going to be staring at me with those dumb eyes all night! Or George, for that matter!"

"You have to see him," Paul reasoned. "You'll never fully get rid of John, or my bugging." Paul got down on his knees and put his hands together. "Please? You can even choose a theme." His lower lip protruded like a child's. I sighed.

"Fine!" I told him. "The theme is ugly sweaters!"

Paul grinned, "Thanks, Missy!" He kissed my cheek. "Now let's go find a tree!" Martha, who we had managed to go unnoticed in the flat for around four weeks, wagged her tail excitedly.

"What do you think, girl?" I asked as I wagged my arse to mimic her tail. She barked in response.

"Alright! Everyone in the car!" Paul announced, I turned off "Holiday Inn", and raced Martha outside to Paul's car as soon as I had my winter gear on. We got in and rolled the windows down so all of London could hear us sing Christmas carols obnoxiously (I wouldn't even have recognized Paul if it had been me on the streets). If only I had some bloke paying me for every time we turned heads...

"Look at all of the trees," Paul pointed. I looked in the direction if his finger.

"Woah," I breathed. There were thousands of them, one after another. We drove some more, and parked at spot home to shorter trees to fit the flat. I walked around to the trunk to get our saw while Paul let Martha out an put her on a leash.

"Ok, you go that way, and I'll take Martha this way. If you find one, yell," Paul instructed.

"Yell what?" I asked.

"Something that will get my attention. May the better tree win!" I grinned as I watched him disappear into the trees with Martha. I wandered around the trees aimlessly, just taking in the smell of pine. I tried to picture all of the trees we had when I was a little girl, what comes to mind when I think of 'the perfect Christmas tree'. While I was reliving the ghosts of Christmas past, a pile of snow fell from a branch onto my head. I moved to look at it, making snow fall from my hat into the collar of my winter coat. The only time I wished I still had my long hair instead of my newly cut hair (only down to my shoulders instead of my ass now!). I stared at the perfectly round tree in awe.

"PAUL MCCARTNEY! GET YOUR BEATLE ASS OVER 'ERE!" I yelled as loud as I could. I heard Martha bark, telling me that they were actually closer than I thought. Paul appeared, and started analyzing the tree as he handed me Martha's leash.

"Hmm... nice and full, 'bout one and a quarter Hollys tall..." Paul muttered to himself as he walked around it. I raised an eyebrow while trying to suppress a giggle.

"Alright, I approve," Paul told me as he handed me the saw. "Start sawing."

"Isn't the guy supposed to cut the tree down?" I asked. Paul developed an interest in his boots.

"Yeah, but we aren't together, so start choppin'," he answered finally, patting Martha's head. I rolled my eyes and laid down on my stomach to start sawing the tree.

"Is it horizontal yet?" I asked Paul after what seemed like years sawing away at the tree's trunk.

"Keep going, love!" he replied. I gritted my teeth, but I saw how the tree had started teetering.

"TIMBER!" I yelled, and rolled out of the way. Paul was standing proudly beside the tree.

"Good job!" he complimented.

I only replied with, "Ugh, I think I've got snow down me pants! And by the way, you're dragging it to the car. Not me." I took the dog and Paul got the Christmas tree acquainted with the hood of the car.

"Mister Hood, meet Tree. Tree, it is my great pleasure to introduce to you Monsieur Hood," I said, doing the backround commentary. "I think you'll enjoy each other very much."

"Shut up and get in," Paul shushed me. "If we get home and decorate right away, we can find an ugly sweater and call people with plenty of time."

"What about food?" I asked. Paul paused, and the confident smile faded slightly, but it was back soon enough.

"Dish to pass, now buckle up, stop talking, and let's go!" Paul told me.

"You're the one who's driving, dumbass."

"'Ere, hand me the blue one, it would look better here."

"No way!" I disagreed. "It's perfect here!"

"Dammit, hand me the blue ornament!" Paul said.

"Paulie's presents roasting over an open fire..." I sang while I put the blue one in front where I had wanted it.

"Fine..." Paul said in defeat, "At least give me the star."

"Let's put it up together," I compromised. I took the star out of the box carefully, and reached.

"Holly, give it up, you aren't tall enough," Paul reasoned. I persistently tried to stand on my toes to reach the tip of the tree. Paul finally decided he couldn't take it anymore. "Woman, this is ridiculous!" he exclaimed, and lifted me up. I could feel my hand place the star on the tip. Paul set me down, and I found myself inches from his face. My best friend's eyes bore into mine. Almost as if he were to... kiss me...

"Teamwork," I said with a grin. His gaze replaced itself with disappointment and then a grin in a matter of seconds, something another person would have missed if I wasn't so damn analytical.

"Time to dress, then," he replied. "What ugly sweater are you going to wear?"

"Eh, maybe I still have some of my mother's sweaters from when I was young," I quipped as I headed into the bedroom. Paul's laugh filled the air. "How about you?"

"Whatever one your sister gave me for Christmas last year," he replied. "While you're prettying yourself up, I'm going to go ahead and call people." I indeed found a sweater my mum had knit me when I was about 15 that I remember loathing to no end. I was surprised that it still even fit. It was green (not forest green, but split pea soup green. Yeah, I know) with white puppies on it. Yuck.

"Paulie, if you wanna get dressed, I can take over the telemarketing," I called.

"Alright, just call the names not crossed off on the list!" Paul yelled as he grew closer to his room. "Don't forget: dish to pass!"

...

Paul straightened the beige sweater with Christmas trees on it from my sister. Thank God she's old and has her own old people parties to go to (believe it or not, my sister was 31! What an old dog). Paul played the part of the welcome wagon and greeted all who came. I took their food/coats. I always seem to be the person at parties who sits at a table and watches everyone else with a drink by my side (Paul is the sociable one, you see). This was no exception, as I watched all of my famous friends mingle with each other while I took drinks from my punch, which had been spiked by someone or another. I tipped it back, and sighed.

"I dig your sweater." I turned around, and saw John.

I snorted and replied, "Thanks. I like yours too." John's sweater was truly a sight. There were so many bitties on it that I can't even remember them all (Christ, I must be getting old). "Who made it?"

"Mimi, who else?" John replied as he sat down next to me and relaxed with his drink. "What're you doing over 'ere, all lonely and whatnots?"

"You know me," I answered. "I'm going out for a fag if you want to join." I walked outside, and John followed me like a lost puppy. I sat down on the curb, and lit my cigarette. I took a drag, and watched the smoke disappear into the air. John took out his own ciggie, and I lit his with the burning tip of mine. John puffed out some smoke, and moved his glasses up his nose.

"I, erm, got you a present," John told me awkwardly while I watched the moving lights of cars. He handed me a surprisingly well wrapped present. I raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't have-" I looked at the plane ticket back to New York. "You really didn't have to!" I exclaimed. John smiled slightly.

"I know you feel fucking trapped here, even if you don't voice it," John told me. "It's that dull look in your eyes. I wanted to see that sparkle again." I grinned widely.

"Fuck, you know what they say," I whispered. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Long story short, I kissed John Winston Lennon. Quite passionately, if I do say so myself.


	46. Chapter 46

_Hello, Beatle people! It's been such a long time since I've ha a chance to talk to you like this! I wanted your opinions on something, which you leave in a review (wink wink nudge nudge). _

_Alright, so I've got a lovely idea, which I know is lovely but it goes at the end of my story and it would make the ending really choppy, so I was wondering if you would like to see it as a one shot? _

_Holly wakes up in heaven, but before being able to rest she has request to know what her life would have been like if everything would have worked out with George. _

_Is that something that would interest you all? Because I won't post it unless you review and tell me what your thoughts are. Ok, I'm done. Read away. _

** Chapter 46  
Oh My Love**  
I only just noticed this patern now as I write this to you, dear reader, but I've always needed a Beatle in my life in order to be happy. My parents always said I wasn't a happy go-lucky kid until I met Paul. In the Moptop period of the Beatles, I needed George like I needed air. I was head over teakettle for him. And now I was enjoying my time as John Lennon's girlfriend.

Oddly enough, John and I were taking it very slowly. It was rather nice because I had neve been in a relationship like that in my life. We were only enjoying the other's presence, surprised at our luck, and totally oblivious to anything or anyone else. We pretended we hadn't known each other forever, and winged (wung...?) it from there. Hell, we didn't even go on our first 'real' date until the night before the night I was supposed to go to New York, about three months after what is now remembered as "Julio and Paulo's Ugly Sweater Christmas Extravaganza Party Fiesta Thingy" (don't judge the name, we were real drunk at the time).

There was a knock at the door, and I pulled myself off of the couch and away from my magazine of science fiction short stories. There stood John, nicely dressed.

"Wanna go out to dinner with me tonight?" John asked. I looked at him, and I looked at my clothes, which consisted of a long sleeved t-shirt that was Paul's, and sweatpants.

"Oh what the hell, sure," I replied. "Come on in, I just have to get dressed." I walked into my room with John in tow, and put on some jeans and psychedelic button down shirt while he stood in the doorway watching me. I know, I know, I was a victim of the times, but it was damn sharp. The only time I'll ever dress smart is when I meet the Queen or visit Mimi. John watched me get dressed with great interest. "All ready now," I replied.

I wrote Paul a note, "Leftover night when you get home from the studio for you and Shaggy Dog. I went to dinner with Lennon. -Love from Missy" and stuck it on the 'fridge with a magnet. I then followed John out to the car, and hopped in. It was his psychedelic Rolls Royce, which I remember fondly painting in the heat that summer. I turned on the radio, and sang along with Jimi Hendrix. I have no clue what song it was anymore, but John gagged and changed it. This went on for about nine cycles until I won because John had to focus half of his mind on London traffic.

We arrived at the resturaunt, one of my favorites. It was one of the best dinners of my recent life, where a waitress didn't recognize me or my date when we weren't disguised. I don't believe that's happened to me since that night. We talked about everything from the sky to music to books to art to the food. And the best part was is that none of it was boring because we were talking about it with each other.

He took me home, and we stepped inside.

"Want a drink?" I asked, "'Cause I'm having one."

John nodded, "Yes, that sounds rather nice actually." I grabbed the Scotch off of the top of the 'fridge and started to pour the liquid into the glass, but I dropped it as I remembered what I had forgotten.

"Oh shit shit shit shit shit!" I exclaimed as I hear the glass smash on the floor and what little alcohol that was in the glass soak my socks.

"What?" John asked, sitting up from his slouch in the chair.

"I forgot to pack until now!" I said as I fast-walked down the hallway to my room, almost tripping over a sleeping Martha. "Sorry, big girl," I apologized to her, and walked into my room. I took my suitcase and tossed it carelessly on the bed, starting to throw pairs of pants into it. John appeared in my room and started to fiddle with the camera on my dresser.

"Smile for the camera, love!" John told me. I looked up from neatly throwing shirts into my suitcase, and grinned. Snap, flash. "Good, lovie, good! Now, give me sultry! Come on, be sexy!" he exclaimed. I shot him a look, and snap, flash.

John shook his head with a look of disappointment on his face as he looked at me over his granny glasses, "Costume and makeup didn't listen to what I said at all! I'll have to fix this meself." I looked down at my clothes.

"What's wrong?" I asked, playing along. John hung the camera around his neck and walked over to me.

"Oh, it doesn't look bad per se, but it doesn't give off the vibe I'm looking for," he explained.

"Well, what needs to be done to exceed expectations?" I asked while I put undergarments in my suitcase as an afterthought. John said nothing else, and unbuttoned my shirt and cast it aside. He snapped a photo, then undid my belt, unzipped my pants and watche with satisfaction as they pooled around my ankles. I stepped out of them as John took another picture. John then unhooked my bra and threw it behind him, which was shortly followed by my underwear.

John took one last picture with a wide grin on his face. "Beautiful, love!" he said. "I'm glad I'll have these to keep me company while you're away!" I grinned.

"Will you keep me company right now?" I asked him in a sultry tone. John smiled seductively.

"I thought you'd never ask."

That night was the first night I made love with John Lennon. Notice how I don't say fucked with or had sex with, but made love. Also notice how I disregard that night at Kenwood in '65, 'cause that was just fucking because we could. This was real love.

Paul McCartney's POV  
I tried my best to ignore the feeling in my back of Holly's bed hitting the wall, but it was so damn hard. How do you ignore the fact that the girl you've loved for more than ten years is having sex with your best friend on the other side of the wall? You don't. You just can't. A stiffled moan filled the air, warped by the drywall. I banged my head against the wall behind me.

She was killing me. I had loved her for so long, yet she continually ignored that I existed in that way. I had the great luck of watching her fall in and out of love with my best friends instead of getting to love her right, in the way they couldn't. I knew she didn't do it on purpose. Who can control their feelings and urges? Certainly not I.

"God, make it stop," I whispered. "Please."

John Lennon's POV  
I heard Holly's alarm clock go off, and she groaned. Her body moved from it's spot in my arms to take the clock and through it across the room. I heard it smash into small pieces.

"Mmm," she sighed, laying in my arms again on her back. I couldn't stop marveling over how this wasn't a dream, I really was laying in bed with her.

"Morning," I replied. Holly shifted, and she got up and started to dress.

"Are you going to come to the airport with me?" Holly asked as she started to button her shirt.

"Yeah," I said, shifting from my position in the bed with no intention of getting up anytime soon. Finally, part by part and piece by piece, I pulled myself out of bed. "Fuck, it's cold," I commented as I started looking for my clothes. Holly laughed.

"Get dressed, we've got to go soon." She took my car keys off of her dresser where I absentmindedly set them when I had noticed the camera, and left the room with her suitcase to go load it in the trunk. I grinned, and finished dressing. I took a quick scan of the room to make sure I didn't miss anything, when I noticed I couldn't see anything in the first place. After I put my glasses on, I followed her out.

We chatted on the ride to the airport, but I was half-regretting my desision to please her and get her out of London. I screwed myself. I didn't want her to go! I wanted her to be there in London with me! As selfish as it may sound, that's how I felt.

It was time for her to board the airplane, and I suddenly got a feeling that she wasn't coming back. Holly must have saw it on my face in that way she does (seeing the most heavily guarded feelings), because she reassured me, "Don't worry my love. I'll always come back to you." She kissed my lips passionately, then smiled. I watched her walk away, and I finally understood how the 'Beatlewives' had felt when the 'Beatlehusbands' left to go on tour. Except it shouldn't be the Beatleboyfriend to watch the Beatlegirlfriend go.

But I realized that her happiness was more important than my lonliness, and I blew her a kiss. Holly pretended to catch it, and she finally disappeared.

_AN: I don't know if you all have noticed, but I have thrown in subtle points along the way that Paul has unrequited love for Holly. As I said, there have been subtle points here and there, but that is going to be a major plot point in the future. I didn't want you to think that was something I threw in randomly, so I decided to explain myself here. Thanks much, Starkiller. _


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47  
Gone, Gone, Gone**  
New York was treating me quite well, as it always had. I'm one of those people that just needs to be left alone for a little while sometimes, otherwise I would go mad. I was staying with Morgan this time around, and it was quite nice. I worked in Strawberry Fields most days, and I had forgotten how much I honestly enjoyed working there and talking to music lovers about music or bitching about other bands with them. During the nights Lauren, Morgan and I would go out and just get piss-drunk. Just like old times!  
I was writing a lot of things too. Some to publish, some just for me. I had published short stories in magazines before to make ends meet, but since I'm not consistent with it I'm not a very well known author. Being a writer is easier when you are isolated, I find. There isn't anyone there to cramp your thoughts, they have plenty of room to roam!  
I heard the phone ring, knowing that it was my weekly call from John. I jumped up from my desk and slid in my socks to the phone.

"Hey," I said, playing with the phone cord on my finger.

"Hello," John said, his voice sounding grave. "Holly, I have bad news. I'm really sorry, I just want you to know that now." My ecstatic mood faded instantly.

"What?" I demanded. There was a long silence on his part.

"Well, I went to your flat last night, 'cause I remembered I had left something there. I got to playing with Martha and I stayed longer than I had originally intended," John started his tale. "The phone rang, so I got up to answer it. The lady on the other end asked for you, so I told her that you were on holiday in New York and that I could get you a message. It was Erin, your brother's mum. Alex is dead, Holly." I felt the world explode in slow motion.

"How? Why? He's twenty fucking years old, he didn't die of old age! I would have heard if he was ill!" I said.

"He was at a protest, and the police came (I don't know the fuck why) and told them all to piss off and go," he told me slowly. "They told the police to shove it and fuck off, so the police started shooting up the place. Alex was Jessica's human shield, and he was shot. Jessica said that when he was dying, he just kept repeating to the officers 'Hey man, all we're saying is give peace a chance. Give peace a chance.'" Jessica was my brother's girlfriend. Last time we talked he told me that he was thinking of proposing marriage to her.

"John, I need to go," I told him.

"I'm real sorry, love. I'm a phone call away, you know. I love you," John said gently.

"Ta. I love you too," I replied, and I hung up. I no longer felt like talking or writing or anything. I didn't even feel like fucking living anymore. I got up off of the floor where I had collapsed, and made myself some tea. The warm liquid calmed me a little, and brought me home. Memories of my brother swirled in my head. He was the only living relative I had that wasn't full of shit (besides my sister every now and again).  
After he graduated from school, Alex moved to California to be a part of the anti-war movement. He was drafted in 1967, but he fucked up his knee and they shipped him back to Cali. There he met Jessica, and she helped him a lot in his recovery. They avidly protested, and visited me shortly after I moved out of Kenwood. Jessica made a nice impression on me, I admit that, but I was surprised at how much my brother had changed.  
His brown hair fell to his shoulders, and he seemed extremely world weary, more than a twenty year old should have been, and that was the last time I had seen him. And now this.

"He was my brother..." I sang, thinking of the Simon and Garfunkel song. An idea popped into my head, and I ran to my room to get my guitar and my tape recorder. I set it on the table in the kitchen, and I sat in a chair. My fingers found the cords, and my voice made the words without thinking, though I changed them to apply:

_He was my brother_

_Five years younger than I_

_He was my brother  
Twenty years old the day he died_

_Freedom rider  
They cursed my brother to his face  
Go home outsider  
This town's gonna be your buryin' place_

_He was singin' on his knees  
An angry mob trailed along  
They shot my brother dead  
Because he hated what was wrong_

_He was my brother  
Tears can't bring him back to me  
He, he was my brother  
And he died so his brothers could be free  
He died so his brothers could be free_

I finished, and without listening to the tape, I took it and shoved it in a box. Morgan came home, and shouted a greeting.

"I'm home, Edgar Allen Poe! I got some groceries!" My sister's friends had nicknamed me Edgar Allen Poe when I was a kid because I was always writing, and my own friends found out and started calling me Edgar Allen Poe as well.

"I'm in my room," I croaked. Her head popped in the doorway.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked as she sat on the floor with me.

"My brother is dead," I told her numbly.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry, Holl," Morgan put an arm around me. I looked at the box, and pushed it towards her.

"'Ey, give this a listen and tell me if it's total shit, yeah?" I asked.

"Alright." Morgan took the box and left to her own room. I could hear my own recorded guitar through the drywall. Three minutes later, Morgan came back with the box in her hand.

"Send this to John and Paul, see what they say," Morgan advised. I nodded, and that's what I ended up doing. I moped around New York for a couple more weeks, until Morgan finally forced me to go home to London because I was miserable. Getting piss drunk with someone who is sad is hell. Trust me.  
The plane home was worse than normal because I had so much on my mind, and for whatever reason I felt more sick than I usually do on airplanes. I even passed on my complimentary non alcoholic beverage! I felt extremely guilty because I hadn't stayed in the States for Alex's funeral. Erin insisted that it was alright and she understood completely, but that didn't make it better. Erin was my second mother, and I loved her like an actual parent though in reality she is only thirteen years older than I am.

"We're now touching down in London, England," the voice said. I closed my eyes and softly groaned, making the people sitting next to me look at me strangely. _Oh, fuck you, I'm the honorary fifth Beatle_, I thought to them with satisfaction. He finally put a stop to the damn plane, and we all parted ways. The person waiting for me wasn't the person I thought it was going to be, though. It was Ringo. He grinned.

"Hey, love," he said when I reached him. "John had some type of studio thing, so he naturally sent me."

"Ta," I said. "I'm starving, can we eat?" Ringo nodded.  
It was nice, not once did I think about a man named Alex McFarlane. Halfway through dinner, a question popped into my head and to my horror, I heard it roll off of my tongue.

"Paul, John and George all dug me, how come you never did?" Ringo laughed.

"Well, you're every musician's dream girl. Intelligent, funny, knows what we're talking about, etcetra," Ringo replied, his grin and amusement growing as he continued. "Not to mention that you're gorgeous in a teddy girl way. When we first met, I was extremely attracted to you, but I understood I'd never have you. You have Paul, John, and George to pick from! I'm the drummer."

"Can't argue with that logic," I said with a sarcastic smile.

"Hahahaha!" he replied, his laugh reminding me of the on he did on the train in A Hard Day's Night.

We finished dinner and had a few non complimentary alcoholic beverages before Ringo took me home.

"Thanks for tonight, Richie," I told Ringo as I kissed his cheek, and made to get out of his car.

"Anytime, love."

I waved one last time, and he was gone. I stumbled inside before falling on the couch without removing my shoes. I finally fell into blissful and uninterrupted sleep.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**  
** Nobody Told Me**  
John Lennon's POV  
I went to her flat the next morning to see how she was doing. I could tell by the void of emotion in her voice over the phone that it had hit her hard. I let myself in and saw Holly asleep on the couch in her clothes she had wore the night before and Macca making something for breakfast.

"What's for breakfast?" I asked. Paul turned around to look at me.

"I'm trying to figure out how to make French toast for her," he replied. "It's her favorite breakfast, you know." I joined him in the kitchen.

"Are you following some sort of recipe, or what?" I asked, and the smell of bacon hit me. "Bacon too! Ooh, you're spoiling her!"

"Yeah about that, how long do I leave it in for?" Paul asked as he glanced at the pan, then back at me. I shrugged.

"I dunno, what're women for?" I said. "Until it's crispy, let's say."

"Yeah, I've got this recipe for the French toast, but I think I'm going to screw it up. It's her grandmother's, and Holly always says there's an X factor to it, melts in your mouth or something like that," Paul told me as he looked at the index card in his hand.

"Let's do this, then," I said. "I'll be at the bacon station, you have fun making that!" I made all of the bacon easily. You flip it every once in a while until it's nice and crispy the way Holly likes it. Paul struggled at the French toast station, to say the least.

"When do you flip this?" he asked, eyeing it warily in its pan.

"When it's GBD," I replied as I ate some of my bacon.

"What the hell is that?" Paul asked again as he turned around and snatched my bacon.

"Arse," I muttered, then explained, "GBD is 'golden brown delicious', obviously."

"Well, if it's so easy, then you do it," Paul said. I laughed.

"How are we still alive?" I asked. "28 and 26 and we've never cooked a damn thing."

"We don't have to, we're Beatles," he muttered. I heard something moving on the couch. I turned around and saw Holly yawn and rub her eyes.

"Mmm, what smells so nice?" she asked.

"Only Lennon and McCartney's finest," I replied. Holly got up off of the couch and stretched before joining Paul and I in the kitchen. "Now kiss the cook." Holly laughed and gave me a passionate kiss. I adjusted my glasses afterwards like some dork who just got his first kiss.

"Hey!" Paul protested. "I cooked too, y'know." She made her way over to Paul, and kissed his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise and by the time he realized what was happening Holly had pulled away. I felt a twinge of jealously arise, but I tried to beat it down. The rational part of me knew that she meant it as a joke by the way she winked at him afterwards. This rational part of me never existed before.

"Sit at the table, you'll be served shortly," Paul ordered her before going to make us all a plate. Holly looked down at the plate he had set in front of her.

"I'm not going to get food poisoning or any other disease, am I?" she asked him. I laughed at Paul and pointed at him.

"She didn't even question the bacon!" I continued to laugh.

"Hahaha," Paul muttered, then he looked up at Holly. "We played your demo for George Martin." At first Holly's expression said, _Look at you calling it 'demo', as if this was official!,_ but then the seriousness of it hit her.

"You did?" she asked.

"Yeah, he dug it," I told her. "He wants you to come in tomorrow, if you're up to it that is." Holly nodded, with a look of pure happiness that had a child like innocence to it.

"I definitely will!" Holly said ecstatically, then got up out of her chair.

"Holl, he also said that he wants you to write something," Paul called after her when she disappeared down the hallway. "'He's My Brother' is a typical B-side single."

"Ok!"  
Holly McFarlane's POV  
I walked into EMI the next morning with my guitar and a notebook that I had hastily wrote my A-side in the night before. I was as nervous as hell.

"George?" I called out.

"Oh, Holly, you're here, yes come in," he replied. "I listened to your demo, I rather enjoyed it actually."

"I love how you guys keep calling it a demo, as if I'm actually serious about this," I told him as I set down my things. I began to remove my guitar from its case.

"Well, even if you aren't, I am," George said to me. "Get in there, let's do the one we actually know about first." I did what he told me and I got situated on my stool. "Ready?" he asked.

"Let's do this, Old Man," I quipped, and began to play the song.

_If love is all we need, why does it hurt so bad?  
And how can we be brothers if we hate?  
Is peace the answer if we kill to achieve it?  
Oh, why, why, why?_

_Why is everything the way it is?  
Why does a man hurt his wife  
when three years ago they were in the throes of love?  
Why do we solve problems with hate?  
I wanna know why._

_If you don't accept the truth, why do you seek it?  
And if you hate the way the system is, change it.  
When you hate, why're you surprised to recieve it?  
Oh, why, why, why?_

_Why is everything the way it is?  
Why does a man leave his girl  
when last week he said, "I'll forever be yours."?  
Why do we solve problems with hate?  
I wanna know why._

_I wanna know why God makes it all better  
if he takes it all away.  
And I want to know why I hurt the ones I love.  
But I realize if I knew the answer why,  
there'd be no point to life,  
and I'd be rather bored._

_But that won't stop us.  
We'll always ask, "Why?"_

I strummed my guitar a little more because I could, and then I looked back at George.

"Well?" I asked. "What do you think?"

"I think that it was very nice, especially since you wrote it last night," he told me. "But let's try it again." We did take after take of 'let's try it again' until George finally told me, "That's the one." A few weeks later, Holly McFarlane's debut single "Why?" was released as a joke, with "He Was My Brother" as a B-side. I think I forgot about it, actually, and went back to writing short stories.

I heard the door open and Paul was suddenly in my room, ecstatic.

"Did you hear?" he asked.

"No...?" I replied.

"Well, 'Why' by Holly McFarlane has reached 5, and some bloke called to do an interview with her," Paul told me, barely containing his grin.

"Get away!"

"It's true!"


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

**Honey Pie**

It was the day of my interview now, and I was really nervous. Soon all of Britain and America would know my inner thoughts and details of my life.

"Paul, what am I even supposed to wear to an interview?" I asked as I rummaged through my closet. My Beatle roommate appeared in the room and took my job of looking through my clothes. He tossed a dark red shirt and a black skirt that stopped above my knees onto my bed.

"I'm pretty sure I wore that to the premire of A Hard Day's Night," I commented as I peeled my socks off.

"You'll be fine, pictures are in black and white," Paul reassured me. "Probably don't remember anyways." I shooed him out of the room so I could dress myself. Afterwards, I stared at the outfit in my full length mirror before putting on my black pumps. Was it just me, or was this tighter...? Was I really getting _that_ old? I was twenty six, for Chrissakes!

After asking Paul's opinion on the matter ("No. If anything, I think it's actually looser."), I left for my interview. I tried to prepare myself for the questions I figured I would be asked. When I arrived, I took a deep breath before finally entering the building. This was it. I was doing an interview as if I was famous or pretty or had real world-changing talent.

I don't remember the beginning real well. I know that he introduced himself, and told me that he was personally a large fan of "Why?" and my version of "He Was My Brother". Then we started the questions.

"What was your inspiration to write 'Why?'?"  
"Human stupidity," I answered. If I was doing this at all, I might as well be honest.

"Why did you choose to record 'He Was My Brother'?"  
"I made the demo the day I found out my own brother was shot and killed in California at a peace rally. It seemed to fit."  
"I'm sorry. Were you two close?"  
"Yes."

"Speaking of which, how do you feel about the war?"  
"It's a load of shit, but the peace movement is as well."  
"You aren't for peace?"  
"Yes, I am. Unlike everyone else, I know that we'll never find it. Things would get damn boring if there was peace, wouldn't it?" He laughed and agreed. "I guess I'm just disenchanted with the whole thing."

"If you could collaborate with any artist or band, who would you collaborate with?"  
"That depends. Now or ever?"  
"Ever."  
"Elvis, Buddy Holly and His Crickets, The Doors, Jimi Hendrix Experience, Simon and Garfunkel, Creedence Clearwater Revival. I don't know, there's just a lot of them I'd cut off a toe to work with."  
"Hmm, that's intriguing. I know a lot of people who would have come and answered 'The Beatles'."  
"I think that would be hard and odd. We'd also probably end up killing each other, and I'm anti-being killed."

"Can we look forward to an album to go with your chart topping singles?"  
"I just haven't got that far ahead yet. The whole thing started as a joke, and I didn't expect it to escallate this high."

"Thanks for coming, and best of luck to you."  
"Ditto."

We shook hands, and I was gone. I found myself confused as to why we even have interviews in the first place. My brain drove myself to John's for a little nightcap.

"How was your first interview as a 'real' artist?" John asked me as he handed me my glass while I set down my shoes, glad to be rid of the damn things.

"Pointless," I replied. "Why do think I'm putting the load on?" He laughed.

"Get used to it, sweetheart," John told me. "I've been getting asked about my hair in every interview for the last four years. And they were four damn long years."

"Hey, I believe you," I promised. I stood up from my chair. "I'd like to make a toast to the perks of being a musician!"

We 'clinked' our glasses on it, and drank to the magnificent art of rock and roll.


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**  
**You Really Got A Hold On Me**  
If you've been reading this long, we would have established that I'M NOT A ROMANTIC PERSON. This was a special exception, however, because this was John and I's first Valentine's Day. I had it all planned out: we were going to have dinner at my flat, then we were just going to watch movies and cuddle and drink (and whatever else might happen, you know...). There was even a black dress hanging in the closet for I bought especially for this Valentine's Day. No way in hell could this go wrong... Then it did.

It was the big night, and I could hardly wait. Everything started off smoothly, and I began to cook our dinner. Let's face it, my cooking skills suck and will continue to suck until the end of time (which I confirmed when I saw my Valentine's Day dinner literally go up in flames).

"No matter!" I declared. "This date is not ruined yet!" I got on the phone and ordered us a pizza. After I hung up the phone I started to dress the table up for the ocassion with a table cloth, two glasses of wine and some candles before going to dress myself up. The black dress was tight at the top, flowed at the bottom and stopped just above my knees. When I first tried that dress on I knew that John would be pleasently surprised since I hate being formal. The pizza came about ten minutes later.

Now there was nothing left to do but wait. And wait. And wait. I glanced at the clock, wondering if it was just me, but it wasn't. It was 7:00. I took my wineglass and tipped it back to my lips.

"Traffic must just be really bad," I reassured myself as I set the glass back down. "I'm just overreacting because I've dreamed of this for the last eight years." Right on cue, the phone rang. "Hello?" I answered.

"Hey, Holl," John's voice said. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to miss dinner. George is holding me up in the studio." I wanted to yell at him, but yell what? It wasn't his fault. It was stupid George Martin's.

"Ok," I replied, not knowing what else to say without getting angry.

"I feel really bad, though," he told me. _Now you're going to kiss ass? Filthy bastard_... I thought ruefully.

"No, it's ok," I assured him. "Work's work. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you."

"Ditto." I hung up, and looked at the ceiling while I screamed, "SHIIIIIIT!" I drained the rest of my wine. The door opened, and I looked up at Paul. "What're you doing here?" I asked him as I started in on John's wine.

"My date stood me up," he said casually as he patted Martha's head.

"Ha, so did mine," I replied sardonically. Paul didn't look surprised at all but he didn't say anything else. "Want to share some pizza?"

"Sure." Paul sat down across from me and we ate my Valentine's pizza. I glanced up at him, and for a moment I pretended that Paul was supposed to be the one there. It was such a wrong thought. He was my best friend, for Chrissakes! No. Not happening.

We chatted for awhile before I interrupted it by saying, "I'm going to go take my dress off and put on some PJs." Paul agreed with me and went to change himself as well. I threw on a t-shirt of Paul's never returned back to him and my favorite baggy ( and ratty and shitty, according to Paul, George, and John) swaetpants I'd had since I was a teenager. We regrouped in the living room.

"Want to watch whatever's on those housewife channels?" Paul asked me.

I laughed and grinned, "Let's."

Paul McCartney's POV  
We cuddled up on the couch and started to watch some chick flick that I forget the name of. I felt Holly's head rest comfortably on my chest, and she let out a big sigh. For a moment I pretended that this was our Valentine's Day, and it felt damn nice. The disgusting male part of me was quite aware Holly wasn't wearing a bra under my white t-shirt. _Oh, come ON!_, I mentally yelled at myself.

"This is fun," I told her, hoping she would infer that I meant 'nice' and from there she would make the connection that I liked her. Holly was a smart girl, right?

"It is," Holly replied as she tried to look up at me without having to lift her head from my chest. "I was just sort of looking forward to spending a Valentine's Day with my boyfriend, you know? It's not that easy to feel like you're in a relationship when you're with a Beatle. Sometimes I feel like a woman." I let out a huge breath. She missed it. Like always, why should we stray from tradition?  
There was a loud knock at the door, and Holly sat up.

"I'll get it!"

John Lennon's POV  
I'd had this planned almost as long as she had planned her 'perfect' Valentine's Day. I swung by the florist's to get some flowers and then I got chocolate because Holly has a huge chocolate obsession (you wouldn't know by looking at her, of course!). I knocked on the door, excitedly awaiting her face. Of course I knew that it wouldn't be one of joy, but that had been the game plan. I heard footsteps on the other side of the door and I knew that they weren't heavy enough to be Paul's and were too quick.

And there she was, in all of her beauty. My heart warmed itself with love.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asked furiously.

"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart," I told my girlfriend cheerfully.

"After standing me up for dinner you come here and tell me 'Happy Valentine's Day'?!" Holly exclaimed.

"I planned it, you know," I let her in on my secret.

"What were you thinking?!" Holly yelled again.

"That I'd get you nice and pissed so I could surprise you," I explained. "Are you surprised?"

"Yes I am," Holly admitted, and a relieved smile finally filled her face.

"Want to go on a drive with me?" I offered, holding out my arm for her.

"Yes I do."

And we drove. Nowhere in particular, and we just drove, acting like the obnoxious individuals we are. It's still my favorite Valentine's Day, all these years later.


	51. Chapter 51

_Hello, Beatle People. It's been awhile since I left you all a A.N., hasn't it? Well, I need your opinions once again, but we'll get to that in a bit. First off I'd like to apologize for my absence. I know I updated on Valentine's Day, but that was a really crappy chapter (from my standards) I whipped up in an hour or two. I've been working on non-fanfic stories, and I got a new word processor, which poured a big bunch of gasoline on that fire. _

_Anyways, here's the part where you tell me what you want. Be honest with yourself, no one's ever happy with the way an author writes a part(s) of a story (we often pretend we are, this is true). After this chapter (or maybe the next, I'll tell you what if I change my mind), should I continue in '68, or go to '69 from here? I'm ready to transition, but I need to know what you all think. Also if there's anything else you want to see, tell me. Leave your answers either in your review or a PM. Ta. _

**Chapter 51**  
**Hey Jude**

Paul and I fell asleep on the couch the night before while we were watching TV, and I awoke to the sound of the phone ringing. I grogily lifted my head off of my best friend's chest to the sound, and got up.

"Hello?" I answered while trying to hide my morning voice.

"Hi, love."

"For fucksakes, John! It's nine in the morning! I was sleeping!" I complained.

"Why aren't you sleeping, now that I think of it?"

"Well, I was, then Cynthia called me at-," he paused, then answered completely, "-about 7."

"What? I haven't heard from Cyn in a long time," I muttered the last bit.

"Yeah, and today is the first time she's letting me have Julian since we split," John told me.

"That's good," I told him while I tried to reach the bowl of strawberries on the counter.

"I told her I'd ask you first," he said.

"Why do I matter?"

"'Cause otherwise it would be awkward and weird for me. Would you please come over?" my boyfriend pleaded. I chewed a strawberry. Ha, awkward for John! I (unintentionally) broke up Julian's parents' marriage!

"Ok. I'll be there after I shower and eat and dress," I gave in.

I could hear John's smile, "Ta. Oh, yes, Cynthia said she wants you to call, she misses you."

"I will. See you in a mo'." I hung up and wrote McCartney a note explaining where I would be and I taped it onto his forehead.

The shower felt amazing, and I tried attempted to dress 'normally' (whatever that is). I continued to overanalyze the situation on the drive to John's. The rational part of me thought, 'Well, what're you worried about? Remember, Jules is five years old, I'm not sure he would think and overanalyze the things a twenty six year old would!', and the other part of me retorted, 'Yeah, well, he's smarter than you're giving him credit for. Julian would have to be absolutely blind to NOT notice his parents' unhappiness in that marriage and John's subtle flirting with you!'. Then my conscious mind as a whole told those two, 'Just SHUT UP, the both of you. Got enough things to worry about already.'. It's true.

I pulled in, and I knocked on the door. My eyes wandered to my left hand, and I noticed it was shaking, which is a sign that I'm nervous. The door opened, revealling Julian's face. I was slightly surprised that he was there already, but I smiled all the same.

"Holly!" he exclaimed with a huge grin. "Your hair is short!" I laughed.

"Julie!" He only let me call him 'Julie', 'cause it's girlish. "Didn't your mum ever tell you that you shouldn't open the door to strangers?"

"But you aren't a stranger!" Julian pointed out to me as I came inside.

"Yes, but how did you know I was at the door?" I countered.

"Daddy said it would be you." Look at Lennon using his mathmatical skills!

"Fine, if you're going to outsmart me at least give me a hug," I pleaded with Julian. He did.

"I missed seeing you," Julian said. I agreed with him, and released him from my arms when John spoke from behind us.

"Did you miss seeing me as well, McFarlane?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm since I went driving with him two nights before.

"A little," I replied snarkily. "You know, when there wasn't anything on telly and I didn't have anything worthwhile to write. Then I did." John kissed me, which felt awkward to me once again, but I dealt with it. He could tell something was off but didn't press it because I don't ever press it.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" I asked Lennon and Mini-Lennon.

I played cars with Julian for two hours until lunch, doing flips and jumps off of whatever materials we could find to use as ramps or obstacles. John watched us and rediculed my car noises, and it took all of my self control not yell at him, 'Ok, smartass, you do it, I quit!'. But I didn't do that, of course. After lunch we all played a game, and I demanded a redo after losing about three times.

"Admit it, sweetheart. You aren't going to win," John told me, looking at me over his granny glasses. Julian giggled.

"I know, but that does mean I'm not allowed to try!" I replied, and shook the dice again. Julian laughed again. After my fourth consequtive loss, I glanced at the clock. It was six, and I imagined Paul at home without anything to eat, looking miserable. Of course I'm no Julia Child, but I've gotten better at cooking as I age and progressively get less and less stubborn (holy crap, I'm mellowing!).

"I better get going," I told the boys. "Uncle Paul is probably going to be reduced to eating Martha if I don't get back soon to cook."

They laughed together. John gave me a quick kiss, and I hugged Julian before I stepped out of the door.


	52. Chapter 52

_Hi. Sorry if this has some typos towards the end. I wrote that last bits of dialogue on my phone instead of my iPad._

_On a different note, I'll definitely be updating more because I have a very clear path now. I hope you all enjoy the path! _

_I'm running out of Beatle/Beatle solo songs for titles. I hope Green Day will suffice. _

** Chapter 52**

** Homecoming**

~1969~

Let's go forward to 1969. I released my first album, which was inspired by people asking about my life, so I made an album with songs that told the story of my life. It did pretty well. Julian continued to see John regularly and called me 'Holly-mum'. My friendship with Cynthia was also resumed, and we went out shopping and to dinner and that sort of thing. It was nice to have female friends who didn't live in another country.

John and I were still living in our own separate houses, but I frequently spent the night at his place, and him at mine. We were both trying to do what we should have done in our previous relationships and learn from our mistakes. We also knew there was no point in trying to change each other; John would always be ocassionally cruel but usually loving, and I would always be stubborn, independent and introverted. I felt like my relationship with John was the first actual adult thing I had ever done for myself, and when I looked to the future, it wasn't a gray, nothingness place anymore. It was full of colors and hope and optimism.

It was one of those days that I had gone to his house and stayed the night. My mind faded into consciousness, still full of sex-induced euphoria. I grinned lazily.

"Finally up, I see?" John's sleep-filled voice said as he draped an arm over me.

"Why're you even up?" I asked. "This defies the rules! I'm supposed to be the insomniac!"

"Just never got to sleep, I guess. I had an odd dream, and I didn't want to go back to sleep so I stayed up."

"Want to to get some breakfast at that one place we like?" I asked as I snuggled up to him.

"I'd love to but I'm supposed to go to Liverpool today to see the auntie and I really should have left an hour ago," he informed me.

After John said that I could instantly see the gears of John's brilliant mind trying to work out a solution. "I've got it! Come with me!"

I attempted to skim through my mental day planner, and it found nothing wrong with this proposal.

"I suppose I could go see Jim," I mused. "Then when I'm done there I could just meet you at Mendips."

God knows that I love my adoptive family, but like any family I can only stand them for so long without wanting desperately to just leave. John seemed to have an objection to my idea.

"Listen, Holl," John said. "I want to warn you about Mimi."

"Why?" I asked. "Mimi and I always got on fine. She says I'm one of your only friends who isn't full of it."

"Yes, but that I was before we became more than friends. You know that my auntie is sort like a mum, and no mum on earth believes there's a girl out there who's good enough for her son," he pointed out. "That's just the way it is."

I said nothing for a moment as I thought about Cynthia's stories about Mimi. Mimi strongly disliked Cynthia for no reason, and made it no secret.

"I'll deal with it," I told him. "We might not even be there that long, depending on how long I stay at the McCartneys'."

"It's a long drive, you know, and I don't want sleep behind the wheel so I figured we'd just sleep there."

Fucking hell, John.

I sighed and got out of bed, "Fine, but can I at least take a shower first? I'm not walking into your aunt's house with sex hair." John laughed and agreed we both deserved showers.

One shower later, we were on the road. We sang songs the whole way there, trying to annoy the other by singing that one's songs. I was singing "She Loves You", and John was singing a song off of my album called "You", which coincidentally was about my early feelings about him and constantly having to reject his advances. John knew that was my least favorite of the songs on my album and I knew that he didn't really like being asked about their past work when there was what they were doing NOW. After four hours of this torment, we arrived in Liverpool and I was dropped off at the McCartneys'.

I knocked on their door, feeling like a fifteen year old kid there waiting for Paul so we could hitch a ride on Mr Harrison's bus to go to school. Jim McCartney answered the door, and his face lit up.

"Holly!" he ushered me inside. "I haven't seen you in so long! I'm glad one of my kids visits me, tell Paul to get his ass down here and visit us sometime, he may be a Beatle but that doesn't mean he can forget his dad ..."

"Holly!" exclaimed Ruth, Paul's nine year old stepsister. I gave her a tight hug.

"Hi Ruth, how are ya?" I asked.

"Good!"

After finishing my greetings with Ruth, I said hello with her mum, Angie. We sat down, and I updated them on what was going on in London. Paul had them extremely out of the loop; Jim and Angie didn't even know that Paul and I were roommates. I made a mental note to berate him. When we were caught up, we talked about a range of topics until I got tired and decided to hike my way to Mendips before it was too dark and cold.

The walk through my old neighborhood, the walk I had made so many times before, made me think of everything that had happened in that neighborhood. Happiness. Pain. Death. Love. Rebellion. It all rushed back into my mind in a whorlwind. I decided that it was only fitting. I pulled my jacket tighter as the wind blew throught to chill my skin, longing for the cheap leather jacket I used to wear.

When I got to Mendips, I realized that John's prediction was true. I knocked on the door, and Mimi answered.

"Oh. You. He's up in his bedroom."

I made sure to politely thank her with a nice 'ta', and I climbed the stairs to John's bedroom. It was still covered in all of those ludicris drawings and cartoons he used to draw that I always admired when Paul would bring me to Mendips. After all, 'birds' weren't allowed in Quarrymen practice, emphisas on 'men'. Thankfully they are much less sexist now. John was laying on his bed and entertaining himself with a book, since Mimi still made him play his guitar on the front porch (even though he was a Beatle).

"Hi, love," I said as I sat on the end of the bed, wondering how we were to both fit in it when we went to sleep.

"How was the family?" John responded without taking his eyes off of the hardcover that was propped on his knee.

"Happy to see me. How was Auntie Cheerful?" I asked snarkily.

"Fine. Was I right?"

"Yeah," I replied dejectedly. "I went from being Holly to being an it."

He looked over his book and smiled at me, "Well, your my it."

"Don't try to be romantic," I told John. "It doesn't suit you."

"Shut up and come 'ere, would you?" he asked as he put the book down and tried to make room for me. I snuggled in and slipped into the void of sleep, knowing that I was where I truly do belong.

_Do me a favor and review, would ya? As a little bribe, I'll give you a spoiler: next chapter has a little Holly vs. George action. _

_See you next time!_


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**  
** When She Goes, She's Gone**  
One day I was (oddly) scheduled to record my second album, Didn't Miss Me, while The Beatles were in there recording Let It Be. I had taken a break after trying to record a song called "I Don't Know" over ten times, and was walking the halls of EMI, which, strangely or not, has always calmed me. As I was walking the footsteps I had walked so many times before, I heard shouts down the hall. On instinct, I started to back away, but an angry George Harrison started storming towards me. He looked at me, and his expression honestly frightened me. I had known the man for twelve years and I had never seen him like that before.

George took another good look at my shocked face, and said over the sound of John's still-shouting voice, "He's a crazy heartless bastard. I can't believe you'd leave me and go to him."

With that off of his chest, my ex-fiance pushed past me to go outside. My eyes widened in anger.

"GEORGE HARRISON!" I yelled after him as I followed him outside to yell at him some more. "GEORGE HAROLD FUCKIN' HARRISON!"

George turned around to acknowledge me as soon as we were outside. It was almost as if he had been anticipating my following him.

"George, you know why I left!" I told him, my voice dripping in anger. "How d'you blame John for that?! If you're lookin' for someone to blame, blame me, I'm the one that walked! Why the 'ell are you even bringing this up now?"

Since I was so angry, all of my Scouse came out and was almost impossible to listen to unless you're another Scouse.

"You know that we can't keep using Lilian as an excuse," George said bitterly. "There were other things contributing to our break up."

"Yeah, but John isn't one of them. I didn't even like him then," I replied. "He was fucking married, fer Chrissakes!"

He looked at my, and I saw the pain harbored in his brown eyes. Instantly, I knew.

"You're not over me," I decided. When George had no objection, I continued. "You probably never will be."

"I told you that that night, girl," he said. "And I hate to fight with ye', but I was a ticking time bomb. Every touch, every kiss, every hug, they all set me on fire with envy."

"George, can I be honest with you?" I asked. He nodded, so I went on. "There will always be a piece of me that is still crazy for you, but I honestly feel this is all for the best. I've been thinking about this for a long time; like you said, I was a ticking time bomb. I personally think that we were just two kids playing house. For God's sake, we were twenty one and twenty two. There's no way we would have known 'this is what I want until I die'."

"I've thought that so many times, too," George admitted. "But there's part of me that likes to think we could have made it work, still. It's too late for that, I know."

"It is," I agreed. "But I'm sure that it's best we know all of these things. Makes it easier."

George took a glance at his car, "Listen, girl, I'm going now. Can I have one more kiss, for old time's sake? I promise that this is the last time."

I nodded, and George bent down and kissed me. It was tender but passionate, loving but bitter. It was the most emotional kiss I've ever recieved. He walked to his car, gave me a last wave, and he was gone, this time for good. My mind was reeling, and all I could do was sit on the steps without an umbrella as it started to rain.

"What a horrible fucking cliche," I muttered.


	54. Chapter 54

_Honestly, the only part of this chapter I like is the part I wrote from Paul's POV. I suppose that I really am my toughest critic though, because you all seem to enjoy chapters I deem weak. Review and tell me what you thought, though, nevertheless._

** Chapter 54**  
**Nothing's Gonna Change My World**  
I was snuggling on the couch (Martha serving as a pillow). It was time for Monty Python's Flying Circus. This was easily my favorite television show (one of the only ones that actually made me laugh out loud and how the actors didn't is beyond me); usually I went to Kinfauns and watched it with George, but he had called earlier and told me that something had come up with his parents and he couldn't. Honestly, there was a time that I couldn't imagine only being friends with George (it's rather hard to imagine only being friends with someone when you've seen them without clothes, you know!), but we were becoming more comfortable in our new roles, and understanding that perhaps that's how it was supposed to be. Most of these things I notice now when I'm much older than I was then, but I believe that there was a part of me that knew all of this. Strange, isn't it?

My laughter rang out and filled the otherwise empty flat (Paul was out being the cute one) at Eric Idle reading the "children's stories".

"With a melon?!" the television said, and I started laughing again.

The phone began to ring its shrill notification. I groaned and pulled myself up off of the couch.

"Hello?" I answered it.

"Holly-mum!" Julian's voice filled my ear.

"What's up, Julie?" I asked the six year old.

"Dad told me to call you and tell you to come over to spend the night with us!"

"Doesn't he know that it's..." I did my impression of the 'it's man'. "Python night?"

There was muffled talking in the background while my boyfriend told his son what to say to me.

"He says that you still need to work on your impression of the it's man, and that we can turn it on over here," Julian offered.

"Fine," I agreed reluctantly. "I'll drive over during the next commercial break."

"Ok!"

I hung up the phone. Any person with three quarters of a brain knows that when Monty Python is on, for God's sake, let me be! I allowed myself to watch Terry Gilliam's obsurd animations, then pulled myself away from the television and left to go to John's. I drove while singing my own little version of "Mrs Robinson" by Simon & Garfunkel. The song was so damn catchy and was stuck in my head all the time.

I pulled into the driveway and let myself in.

John kissed me 'hello' and whispered low in my ear, "I need to talk to you after Julian's asleep."

I thought this rather odd but I said nothing and sat on the couch to resume my TV time. Julian cuddled up to me and I found myself thinking, Y'know, this parent thing isn't so bad. John read my face like a book and grinned at the two of us. We went back to watching television, Julian falling asleep during their last sketch.

"Julie," I shook him gently. "Time for bed."

"'M not tired," he protested half-heartedly.

"You were sound asleep not more than five minutes ago," John pointed out to his son.

"I'm not tired!" he maintained.

I switched tactics and began to tickle him, "Ok, Jules, if you aren't just a teensy bit sleepy, don't laugh at all. Not one peep!"  
He lost that one in a minute. Julian reluctantly and tiredly stumbled off to bed. I myself collapsed tiredly, my head falling into John's lap. He laughed and stroked/ran his fingers through my hair.

"I liked your hair better when it was long," he remarked. "There was more for me to play with."

"What did you want to talk to me about?" I got him back on topic while I sat up.

"Right, that. Well, I want you to honestly tell me what you think of this, ok?"  
I nodded, curiousity eating away at me.

"I want to ask Cynthia for custody of Julian," he told me. "What do you think?"

"Are you daft?!" I exclaimed, scooting away from him.

"No, I'm serious. He's been spending a lot of time with us lately, and I miss him. I want to be able to see Julian whenever I want to."

I know what I said next was impulsive and rude, but I said it. I also know now that what follows the next couple of statements is completely my fault as well. Rage has this effect on people, making them say things uncharacteristic with their personalities. With me anger only makes me more obnoixious than I already am.

"This is something that the old John would do," I told him. "Don't be like that."

"What do you mean?" he asked, getting this blank look. That should have been my first clue.

"Don't be a dick. You're a Beatle. You say this now, but I don't think you're prepared to take care of Julian."

"You thought that I was a _dick_?" John asked. That should have been my second clue.

"Honestly, yeah, I did," I admitted. "You were this sexist jerk who slept with women without getting their first names, you were impulsive, and you constantly made fun of me until I felt like dying. We only put up with each other because we both liked Paul, and you know it. But you grew on me, and you aren't a dick anymore. But what you're planning to do is a real dick move, John."

Strike three, and you're out, Holly girl.

"You were the same way!" he told me.

"I honestly never would have loved you before last year. I always thought you were attractive, but things you did annoyed me to no end. I really thought you were a dick," I shrugged.

I obviously didn't see what I was doing. Stupid stupid.

What happened next isn't all that clear in my memory. I do know he hit me, and I fell down from the force of the blow. I blinked dazedly, and for a minute I was leaned against the walls of my childhood home, my mother standing over me instead of John. I blinked again and I was back in the present ten years later.

"Oh my God, Holly, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," John apologized profusely, repeating himself like a broken record. He started to help me up but I hit his hands away instinctively.

"No," I told him. "I have to go."

"I'm sorry!" he apologized again. "Just- please don't go. I wasn't thinking-"

"Visibly," I said coldly, and I left.

I climbed into my car and started to drive home. Tears stung my eyes. I never thought in a million years that this could happen. At the moment I wanted nothing more than to turn back and tell him I loved him more than anything, but I was too far gone. It was too late for that now.

I had promised myself when I decided to begin a relationship with John that I would never become another Cynthia.

"God, I'm such an idiot," I whispered to myself.

Paul McCartney's POV  
Holly wasn't home, so I was heating up some leftovers while playing with Martha. I felt a tad bad that I hadn't seen the dog lately, but we were so busy recording. Life is pretty ridiculous sometimes, but you have to just let it happen and not worry too much. The sound of the door opening filled my ears, and I was about say something funny until I heard Holly call my name weakly. I turned around quickly while concern quickly consumed my brain. There was dried blood on her face, while more fresh blood still ran out of her nose.

"Oh my God," I said, the three words all sounding like separate sentences. "Bathroom. _Now_."

Holly sat down on the toilet while I wet a wash cloth with warm water. I closed my eyes for a moment and when I opened them we were in the bathroom at my dad's house. Holly had longer hair, and was wearing all that leather she used to wear. My eyes opened and we were back in her flat in present time.

"Are you planning to tell me who did this to you so I can go bash his head in?" I asked her while I cleaned up her face.

Holly told me her story. To say the least, I wasn't too surprised.

"Love, I hate to tell you, but John's a hitter, and he'll always be a hitter. He's a just a hitter by nature," I said gently.

"I was just so _stupid_ to even think-" Holly started, but I broke her off.

"No, you aren't," I told my best friend firmly. "Love is sort of like knowing a language; if you learn it young, it's easy, but if you never knew, it's harder."  
She looked up at me with eyes that had tears in them.

"Will you just love me for a little while?" Holly pleaded with me. "Please, Paul?"

I took her in my arms and I held her while we sat on the bathroom floor, her blood quickly spreading across my white shirt as Holly buried her face into my chest.

"I've loved you for so long," I said, and as soon as I said it, I cringed inwardly and wondered if I actually just said that out loud. Holly didn't seem to take any notice of it. Right then she was reduced to a child in a grown up's body, every single emotion clearly visable on her face. I hugged her closer to myself and wished for the moment to never end, before Holly came to her senses.

I knew that she would, though. She always does.


	55. Chapter 55

_Could I have made this chapter longer? Yes. Did I? No. But there wasn't much more to it, so here you go._

**Chapter 55**  
**We Got a Groovy Thing Goin', Baby**  
Paul McCartney's POV  
I awoke from an uneasy sleep as the phone rang. Martha took over guarding Holly's sleeping body as I left to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Is Holly-mum there?" I knew that it was Julian almost instantly.

"Yeah, she's sleeping right now, Jules," I told him.

"Oh," disappointment filled his voice. "I just wanted to make sure she was alright."

"How did you know she got hurt last night?"

"I heard she and Dad fighting last night while I was trying to sleep," Julian explained. "I heard a loud crash, and then I heard her car pulling out of our driveway."

"Well, I'll tell your Holly-mum that you called, Jules," I promised. "She'll be happy you called." I paused, and added as an afterthought, "Is your dad awake?"

"No, I woke up early so I could call you, because I don't want to get in trouble," he explained his plan. I said a few more things after, and then we exchanged our farewells.

"Who was tha'?" Holly asked softly from the couch.

"Julian," I told her. "He wanted to know if Holly-mum is alright." She moaned.

"I don't really know anymore," she admitted. "I just want to go to sleep for a million years and not wake up." I sighed and wrapped her in my arms again.

"You really should talk to John, y'know," I told her after a moment's silence. I needed to put my feelings away, and look out for her. She had been taking care of herself for too long, and Holly needed to learn when to just give it up. I didn't know quite how I was going to do it, but I was going to help her, and if it was at my heart's expense, so be it.

"Yeah, I know," Holly replied, then added, "I never really was angry; as soon as I left I wanted to run back inside. I just don't ever want to let myself be a Cynthia to him."

"But the only way you'll ever solve anything about it is by talking to him," I came right back to the topic.

"I know."

John Lennon's POV  
The knocking on the door forced me out of my self reflection/pity, though part of me was finding it damn hard to pity myself for what had happened.  
She's gone. It's all your fault, John. No one else's but yours.

_You're a taker, John. You've always been a taker; you took years away from Cynthia, you took innocence from Julian, and now you're taking happiness from Holly. Do you ever learn? _

The face behind the door wasn't the one I had been expecting. It was Holly. I stood aside to let her in, and she accepted the invitation. We sat on the couch, her searching for something in my eyes she couldn't seem to find; that, or she had found it and wanted to find more.

"Don't talk, only listen," I told her. "I know that my excuses won't change or fix anything, and I understand that. If you leave me, I understand that too. I just know that I love you, a lot. I want to marry you and I want to have children with you. I never want to let you go, but if you let me go I won't stop you."

"I came here to tell you that I want all of those things, too," Holly replied. "I'd be stupid to go. This is where I'm supposed to be, and let's face it, we got a groovy thing goin', baby." I laughed at her Simon and Garfunkel joke, though mostly I was just relieved she wasn't leaving me.

"Y'know, Cynthia already came and got Jules," I hinted. She grinned and shook her head.

"I'm not a pleasure machine," she said. "I get tired every now and again!"

There's nothing wrong with being a little tired, you know.


	56. Chapter 56

_Hello, it's me again. Probably not my strongest chapter, but it works. I've some stuff to tell you, some is about the plot, some is self promotion, and other stuff is just meaningless babble. First off, I'm REALLY running out of Beatle songs for chapter titles! I've had one Green Day, two Simon and Garfunkels, and now a Bruce Springsteen. At least it's all good, right? _

_Next I'll get to my plot stuff. The story is really going to start to pick up as John and Holly plan their wedding and eventually get married (Holly knows for a fact that somehow something will go wrong, so we'll have to watch out for that). I'm also going to get George and Paul some girls eventually, but that'll happen a little later. _

_And lastly, a little self promotion (which I usually try to avoid, but this time I'm throwing the rules out the window here). I wanted to tell you all to check out the stories by The Paperback Writers Project, which are all posted by Celestearts. The stories posted are (I think): Not A Second Time, Come and Get It, and A Day In The Life. I hope you all can get some enjoyment out of that, because as a reader/writer I think they're all brilliant. _

**Chapter 56  
She's The One**

John Lennon's POV  
"George?" I called after the guitarist as he walked to his car. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure, what's up?" he asked while he turned around.  
"I'm thinking about asking Holly to marry me," I told George. "And I was wondering if that bothers you at all, since, y'know, you two used to be engaged?" George shook his head.

"It doesn't," he reassured me. "I mean, I'm sure there's a small part of me that does care, but let's face it, I could've had her and I fucked up." George paused for a moment before adding, "And I get the sneaking feeling that you'd propose to her anyways, whether I approved or not."

I grinned, "Yeah, probably, but doing it with your approval makes everything so much easier. Even if I didn't give a shit, Holly would, so this makes it all whole lot less painful." Ringo and Paul came out of the studio next.

"What's happening with you and Holly?" Ringo asked.

"John wants to ask her to marry him," George updated them. Paul almost instantly lit a cigarette after this and took a long drag, whether this was by coincedence or not is completely beyond me.

"Really?" Paul asked after he had exhaled the smoke.

I shrugged, "Yeah, why not? My divorce is finalized, we're in love, everything's peachy, it's now or never before I lose my courage." Paul put on a smile.

"Sounds good to me, mate," he told me before taking another puff of the cigarette.

"Get the ring yet?" Ringo asked while lighting up his own cigarette. Ring... I forgot that you have to propose with a ring...

"No," I admitted. "But I wouldn't know what to get. Holly doesn't exactly strike me as the jewelry type."

"We could come with," Ringo offered. "Y'know, a little imput before you make a mistake and get something she wouldn't like."

"Four Beatle heads definitely are better than one," Paul agreed as he put out the cigarette.

"Sounds good to me, I suppose," I replied. "Tomorrow night?"

"Yep."

"Ok."

"Sure."

"Then it's settled," I finalized before I got into my car to leave. That night was the beginning of the rest of my life.

...

We all met in front of the jewelry store of choice after dinner and feeding Holly a couple of excuses (me: studio, George: family, Paul: girl, Ringo: knackered). The bell on the door jingled when we went inside, announcing the arrival of all four Beatles.

"I feel like we're in Help!, here to get Ringo's ring sawed off," George said. We laughed as we agreed.

"Split up and call each other if we find something?" I suggested. The other three nodded, and spread across the store. "Cor, why can't you just propose with fruit or something?" I asked myself bitterly. "That would be so easy-get'er a nice blend of blackberries and raspberries and I'd be in."

George, who was somewhat close to me threw in his two-cents, "See, I avoided this whole mess by making her a custom ring."

"Fuck you."

This was one of the most difficult things I had ever done in my whole life. I forgot what each ring had looked like as I saw the next. George and I had a few 'almost's, usually marred by the size or style.

"I've got it!" Ringo exclaimed. Figures. Naturally, we all rushed over to the drummer.

"This ought to be good," Paul muttered to me. Ringo moved aside so we all could take a look. It was the perfect size, with a medium red stone set in silver. He commented on it as if he was the salesman.

"Perfect size-'cause let's face it, Holly's a small person and has the tiniest fingers ever, red stone, her favorite color, and not gold, because Holly hates gold," he commented. I found that he was right.

"Paul, George?" I asked. "What do you think?" Other than I, they definitely knew Holly the best. One was her ex-fiance and the other was her best friend. Hard to go wrong with that.

"It's nice," George said. "I think she'd like it."

"Perfect," Paul agreed. "Only thing she'd go for, I think." I looked up at Ringo in astonishment.

"Ringo, you did it!" I told him. He grinned.

"My name's Ringo, of course I did," Ringo replied sardonically. I paid for the ring, and we all parted ways, me trying to dream up a way to propose to my girlfriend. Well, I had the ring, that's halfway there, isn't it?

Holly McFarlane's POV  
Under strange circumstances, I was home alone on a Saturday night. Everything they told me made sense, but something seemed off. It was as if all of the Beatles knew something that I didn't, and I hate not knowing something. If I'm not in control, I'll go mad. It's science.

After a busy week of recording, photoshoots, and business shit, I easily forgot about the odd events of the Saturday before. Then John calls me and asks if I want to go on a drive, and something in his tone brought back the suspision I had been feeling before; of course, there was no reason to not believe him, and if nothing, I got a free ride, so I agreed. Another strange condition about the thing was that John had told me to dress nicely. According to him, we were also going to dinner. I decided to wear my black dress from Valentine's Day; I loved that dress because it made me feel like I was a Bond girl.

He picked me up at the flat (Paul conveniently out doing something), and we went to dinner, just as he had told me over the phone.

"Get a hold of yourself, you're being paranoid for no good reason," I told myself.

John opened the car door for me and helped me out (another strange thing, because he never does that!), then we went inside. A couple of glasses of wine later, I forgot my paranoia almost completely. We quickly settled into the casual chatter that usually fills our evenings, when John said something that caught my attention.

"Hey Holl, wanna get married and have sex?"

I laughed and took another bite before asking, "Nessecarily in that order?" with a wink. He rolled his eyes.

"No, not in that order!" John said frustratedly. "I'm serious, though." He pulled a ringbox out from his jacket pocket, and opened it. "Holly McFarlane, will you marry me before I come to my senses?"

Two million thoughts rushed through my mind at once. I loved John with all of my heart, but was I ready for all of this? Did I want to get married? Was I even the marrying type? My mind bounced from question to question in mere seconds.

Then it went to the place I had been hoping it wouldn't: George and I. Same exact situation. We thought that we were in love and that we were going to spend our lives together and ride off into the sunset like in fairytales. That unravelled like everything else does. What was so different about John and I, besides the fact that he hadn't gotten me pregnant first?

For once, my mind went for the optimism. I said it myself, George and I were like two kids playing house, and eventually when you're playing house you have to end the game because Mummy called you inside for lunch. John and I were adults now. We knew what we wanted, and we were both ready to grow up and be adults. I was done playing house, and obviously John was too.

"Yes," I said. For once, my brain and my lips were completely in sync. John look up at me.

"Really?" he asked.

"You sound like you're surprised," I commented. "Do I not tell you 'I love you' enough or something?"

John laughed shakily, obviously still getting over his nerves, "You know, it's just me being pessimistic again." He slipped the ring onto my finger, and I admired it for a second. It looked perfect there.

"Remind me to tell you about the Boy's Night Out to pick out that ring," John told me when he caught me staring at the ring.

"I love it," I replied. "It's not too tiny and it isn't huge. It's..."

"You?" he suggested. I nodded in agreement. We were quiet for awhile before I rebroke the silence.

"Hey," I said. "I've never heard of engagement sex before, but we should invent it."

John shot me a grin, "Let's get you home first. Car sex to celebrate engagement seems so wrong."

"Perhaps that's what's so attractive about it," I said after John paid the bill. "Not to mention that it's so goddamn classy." My fiance (fiance... I like that word) laughed. Like he said, he drove me home. Instead of coming inside and making love like I had planned, John gave me a goodnight kiss and left. I waved and shut the door.

I turned around and made my way to the kitchen to make myself a real drink (I can only stand wine for so long before longing for something a little harder). As I watched my hand to make sure I didn't pour Scotch all over the counter, my eyes wandered to the ring.

"I'm engaged to John Lennon," I said in disbelief. It didn't even seem real. But it was. Holly McFarlane was getting married.


	57. Chapter 57

_'Lo, Beatle People! This chapter will start a couple little side stories, which will be fun. It also has the reintroduction of Lauren and Morgan, which will also be fun. They are definitely more prominently featured this time around. Tell me what you all think, as always._

_On another note, I think I will be revamping some of the early chapters. I never made chapters or entered again when someone began talking. When I first wrote this story, I wasn't a very good writer (at least at all of the technical stuff); I originally wrote "The Time Of My Life" when I was WAY younger than I am now. The way it is is one of the reasons I can hardly stand to reread early chapters. Doesn't really effect you all, though I will tell you now that I might make a few content adjustments. Whether you look back or not is entirely up to you. _

_-Starkiller _

**Chapter 57  
Gimme Shelter**

After the engagement, everything went relatively well, for the most part, besides the little work thing or crazy traffic. Everything that went wrong for me was completely out of my hands in the first place, in other words. I was still living in the flat with Paul and Martha, but it was because I enjoyed living in my own place and being able to say I own something in this world. John and I barely fought besides small disagreements- nothing huge, so that was a plus. It was only that one time, and I was thankful for that. As time went on, I realized how serious I actually was about this marriage.

We hadn't talked about it all that much, but there were a few plans set in stone. There wasn't a set date, but it was going to be some time in 1970, so I had a whole year to procrastinate before I had to do girly shit. It was also going to be a small ceremony, because let's face it: neither John or I have much family, and we only have about five friends (which we share). Y'know, the ones that matter. In the words of John, after all, 'all you need is love', right? That, and 'she loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah!'. Both were there, we'll be fine.

Long story short, never better. That should just about bring you up to date. It was one of those rare days that Paul and I both had off, so we planned to go out to the pictures or something. It was his turn for the shower, so I watching some telly and hanging out with Martha. The telephone began to ring its shrill alarm, and I got up off of the couch to answer it, wishing longingly that there was some way for me to pause the show I was watching.

"Hello," I said pleasantly, absentmindedly tapping my fingers to the rhythm of the drums in a single from my album (which was doing pretty well on the folk charts, thank you very much).

"Holly!" a familiar voice said to me.

"Is this Morgan?" I asked.

"Christ, has it actually been that long?" she replied. "Yeah, it's me. Listen, Lauren and I are coming home soon, could you spare us a room?"

"It's not exactly a holiday, is it?" I said. "Strange time you've picked to drop everything and come back to England." It was the middle of March; it wasn't Christmas, and Morgan's birthday is in October and Lauren's in May, and all of their siblings' birthdays were in either way in the future or way in the past. In other words, it just didn't make any sense to me.

"Yeah, remember my last call a couple of months ago?" Morgan asked me. Yeah, I did. Business was well, she had said, but Lauren had really started laying into the booze and drugs.

"Yep."

"Well, if at all possible, she got worse, so I had to stage an intervention, you know? She promised to quit cold turkey, and I thought that coming home to all of our friends would be helpful," Morgan explained. I wondered how things had gotten so complicated, and I longed for the simpler days when we were teenagers. Those days were getting farther and farther away, weren't they?

"I see," I replied. "No, I don't have an extra rooms, but I could pull a few strings and see if you could stay with John."

"That'll definitely work!" my friend agreed. "We'll be in next week, on the 25th."

"Lovely, I have to go now so I can kiss some ass to get you a room, but I'll meet you at the airport next week," I told her. We hung up, and I dialed John's number almost a nanosecond later, completely forgetting that I wanted to watch my show on television.

"'Lo?" John answered.

"Hi," I said. "I need a favor."

"Depends on what I get in return," John replied smartly.

"Whatever you want, but this is really important," I agreed quickly, and explained about Lauren and Morgan.

"Well, Julian's coming over that weekend, but I think I can spare a room for the both of them," he said, then thought aloud, "Christ, I don't even remember the last time I saw that bunch..."

"Yes, it's been a while," I agreed. "I think I might stay at your place that week as well. You know, to keep an eye on them."

"Sounds good to me," John said. "See you soon, love." We hung up, and I went back to my TV, though it seemed less important now. Paul finally came out of the shower, and he looked at me as if I was the one holding us up. It almost made me laugh out loud, considering I had been there for almost ten minutes, and I was the _girl_.

"Ready?" Paul asked me. I turned the TV off and got up off of the couch.

"Yeah, let's go, Paula."  
...

I drove to the airport to pick up my two friends that I didn't think I had seen in almost four years. Sure, there are phone calls, but it isn't the same. It made me feel like a dick that I wasn't there when my friend needed me. Hell, I didn't even know what they looked like anymore. Did they still have the long hair, or did they go short like me? Does Lauren still like to throw it all up in a ponytail everyday? Shit, I don't know!

The plan was for me to pick them up and take them to John's, where everyone was, and we'd all hang out there together. George was all out of sorts because way back in the day, he used to fancy Morgan. Now that he was free of me and the ghost of me, he could do whatever he wanted, and trying to get Morgan was no exception. John was slightly amused because the only person more sarcastic than I was Lauren, and they were in a neverending battle of wits. Paul and Ringo were both excited, but less than the rest of us because they had less ties to the two girls than the rest of us did.

I waited patiently to see a familiar face.

"Holly!" a voice yelled. I frantically looked around for the source of the voice, and finally found Morgan and Lauren, the latter waving both arms above her head to get my attention. It turned out that I had little reason to worry. They were the same people I had always known; Morgan with her curly hair barely past her shoulders, and Lauren's in a messy ponytail. I ran to the pair.

"Hey!" I said. We all shared a group hug while they took turns commenting on my hair (Morgan: "It looks wonderful!" Lauren: "You look ridiculous."). "So, to the car?" I asked. They nodded, and we went to find Paul's car that I had borrowed.

"So, anything new?" Lauren asked, a smile still on her face from winning the passenger seat.

"I managed to secure you two a room at John's," I said. Lauren shook her head, looking like John Cleese as she did so ("Silly Job Interview" skit), and I took the time to look at her face. She looked as if she hadn't slept for a million years, and I could tell that she was very afraid (even if she won't tell anyone about it).

"I _meant_ the ring on your finger," Lauren clarified.

"John and I are engaged," I replied nonchalantly.

"Ugh, I didn't see it!" Morgan complained from the backseat. "Lauren, is it pretty?"

"Yeah," Lauren told her. "It's beautiful. For Lennon."

"So," I said, lobbing the ball back. "What's new with you?" Those two produced a million stories, Lauren more than Morgan though. Lauren completely ignored the reason she was in London. Nearly all of the stories were hilarious, and I almost wet myself before we were at John's. I parked the car in front of John's house, and told them, "Welcome to Hotel Le Lennon."

"So..." Lauren said. "How many arrests have been made here since he bought the place?" Morgan elbowed her, and we entered the house. Everyone (George, Paul, Ringo, Maureen, John, Julian) was there waiting for us, and the party started as soon as Morgan stepped inside the door.

"Ah, so there's the druggie!" John said to Lauren with a sarcastic grin. I shot him a glare, as if to say, _Now you've done it this time_. The whole room became quiet and watched to see what would happen.

Lauren didn't look the least bit offended as she shot back, "Learned it all from you, Lennon." The laughing and talking resumed, secretly grateful that a fight hadn't broke out (though a fight between Lauren and John would be interesting; John was John and Lauren was the youngest of three children). I found Paul sitting by himself with a drink, taking up my hobby of watching a party happen around me instead of participating in it.

"Hey," he greeted me. "Want a sip?" I took the drink gratefully and gulped.

"Can I ask you to do me a favor?" I asked him.

Paul considered it for a moment before nodding, "Yeah. What's up?"

"Could you take Lauren out one night?" I asked. "Just to get her out?"

"Do I have to?" Paul quietly complained so she wouldn't hear him. "She's a female dick." I rolled my eyes at him.

"So am I, but you like me just fine," I defended my friend. "C'mon, just once, and if you don't like it, you don't have to again. Look, she's trying to kick a habit and she broke up with her boyfriend. I know Lauren pretty well, and right now she feels like a huge drag. If she had something to look forward to, she'd enjoy the trip." Paul sighed.

"Fine," he agreed, then handed me his drink, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a woman to ask to dinner." Sure enough, he walked over Lauren, who had been reengaging her battle of wits with John, and began chatting with her. I sipped on his drink, which was extremely strong for my taste, and glanced around the room at the other groups chatting. My ears landed on conversation between George and Morgan.

"So, Morgan," he said to her. "Do you have a boyfriend back in the States?"  
Morgan shook her head, "No. In a bar, most guys usually go for Lauren. I get the occasional guy here and there, but most of them are creepy."

George sipped his drink before saying, "Well, that's a downright shame." Morgan laughed and pulled a stray brown curl from her face.

"Ta." I turned my attention back to Lauren and Paul, the latter laughing so hard at her jokes that his face was red. Knew it.

"This visit should turn out fine," I said to no one, toasted myself, and drank merrily.


	58. Chapter 58

_Here we are! Not a lot of Holly in this chapter, but oh well. It was refreshing to write in another point of view for a change. And without further ado..._

**Chapter 58  
One in a Million**

I laid on the couch, reading Rolling Stone's review to my album. Esentially, they said that I was thinking more musically. They also said that my lyrics were significantly angrier than they were on the first album, which is interesting to me, because I wasn't angry when I wrote them. Oh well, what're you going to do? I'm getting carried away here.

Lauren sat herself on my legs, and Morgan sat on the arm of the couch.

I groaned in agony, "Aren't you too old for this?!" Lauren shrugged.

"Physically, maybe, but not mentally," she replied.

"So, what's the point of crushing my legs?" I asked exasperatedly.

"The original point was to say we should go shopping," Morgan said.

"Why're we doing that?" I asked. That had been the first opportunity I had had all week to read Rolling Stone, I wasn't looking forward to having that sacred time interrupted.

"'Cause we can, and Lauren needs a dress for Saturday," Morgan replied.

"Besides, it's more fun to go shopping together than alone." She did have a point. That, and the unspoken fact that I was the only one here with a vehicle.

"True." I got up to write John a goodbye note, since he was still asleep.

_Going out to be a girl with the girls. Just going shopping in town, don't worry about us (me and Morgan, I mean). Love you, Holly_

"Let's go!" Lauren exclaimed, then called 'shotgun' in the car. Believe it or not, we were going dress shopping for this woman. Also believe it or not, she was twenty seven years old. Lauren and I fiddled with the radio to get the perfect station, and we all sung aloud. I had forgotten over the past couple joyous months how much I missed and loved these two women. It was nice to be a woman every now and again.

Anyways, I'll cut the trip short because I have other things I want to shove into this little installment, and I'll give you a list of our new possessions: a new Fender Stratocaster (me), a dark blue knee length dress (Lauren), a red dress (me), a dark purple dress (Morgan), and three cups of tea (me, Lauren, and Morgan). The reason I cut this sort of short is so I can give you Lauren and Morgan's respective Saturday nights. I spent mine cuddling with a brand new Strat (it was my first one, that was a joyous night for me).

Paul McCartney's POV

I took one last look at myself in the mirror before going to my car. I supposed that Lauren was a bit like John, or even Holly: if you had known her forever, you'd know she was joking or that she wasn't serious in the slightest. If you hadn't, then you could take something she said offensively and think she was a bitch. Maybe that's what had happened with her and I. Perhaps she really was a bitch, and everyone just happened to like her besides me. Who knows?

All I knew was that I had been cajoled by Holly into taking Lauren out to dinner. Damn my love for Holly; I'm quite sure that I would do almost anything for her. Including taking her best female friend out on a date. I wasn't sure what to expect from the impending night. Only find out with time, I suppose.

I pulled into John's driveway, and waited. Should I get out and get her, or should I just stay put and wait? The three girls were obviously watching me from the big front window, waiting for me to make my move. Ever the gentleman, I finally decided to just go suck it up and get her. I rung the doorbell and waited for what seemed an eternity (in reality, it was only about five minutes or so) before Lauren answered the door at Morgan and Holly's urging.

She looked absolutely beautiful. On her was a dark blue dress that stopped a little above her knees; short enough to get me going but not short enough to be considered trashy. Strangely, Lauren's hair was down and curly instead of her trademark ponytail. A smile spread across her lips, I had obviously given the correct reaction. I had five seconds to think of something to say... C'mon, McCartney, think...

"Christ, I want to get a camera," I said after a moment's consideration. "Your hair's down!" Lauren laughed.

"I'm pretty sure that's a compliment, so I'm going to say ta," she replied.

"Ok, you kids, have fun," Holly said, waving.

"Don't bring her home too late!" Morgan scolded, picking up on Holly's joke and playing along.

"Shut it," Lauren told them. "Paulie's a good boy (too good, if you know what I mean), he won't hurt me!" Holly suddenly got a far away look on her face, but it left as soon as it had came.

"Well, go on!" Holly told us, shooing us away with her hands. "You look like a pair of morons standing there." Taking her commands to heart, the two of us left to go to my resturaunt of choice, where Lauren slowly but surely changed my opinion of her and charmed her way into my heart. It turns out that she's funny, honest, and at times she can be very nice and sweet. Most of the things I didn't originally like about her was just her being honest and saying what she thought, because Lauren is a very opinionated person. It just so happens that a lot of her opinions can be offensive.

She had me laughing so hard that at one point I began to choke on my wine, and we got strange looks when she had to pound my back. Surprisingly enough, I even had her laughing. I'm not even all that funny! We inevitably finished dinner, and I looked at her.

"Are you really in a hurry to get back?" I asked. "'Cause I'm actually having a really nice time with you."

Lauren shook her head, "No. I'm having a good time with you too, a better one then I thought I would, to be honest."

"Go for a drive?" I suggested. I had been so close to saying 'for a couple of drinks', but then I remembered that was part of the reason my date was here in the first place. Lauren nodded and smiled at me.

"Sure."

Morgan's POV

Shortly after Lauren left with Paul (those two didn't look half bad together, come to think of it), the telephone rang, and Holly jumped up off of the couch to answer it. After exchanging a few sentences with whoever was on the other end, she handed it to me.

"It's for you," Holly said with a slightly knowing grin, 'knowing', in the sense that she knew something that I didn't.

"Who?" I asked as I took it from her. Holly shrugged as that knowing spread further across her face. "Hello?" I answered, taking a leap of faith.

"Morgan, it's George," the voice on the other end answered, and I felt a grin spread across my face as I understood why Holly had smiled. She had seen George and I talking the other night, sneaky as ever. In fact, I had enjoyed talking to George. When you're friends with Lauren and Holly, you don't get a lot of attention unless you're invited into the conversation, especially when you're kind of quiet like me. It was nice to have someone want to talk to me for a change.

"Hey, George," I replied. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks," he said. "Hey, do you want to go on a drive with me?" I took a second to think about it, but then I realized that a Beatle had just asked if I wanted to go on a drive with him. This should be a no-brainer!

"Yeah, that sounds nice," I finally said. "Pick me up in 30 minutes, give or take?"

"Sounds good. See you then, love." I hung up after the annoying tone had confirmed that George had hung up first. Did he just call me 'love'? I wondered mentally. Nah, he probably just meant it as a friendly gesture or something. I muttered something about having to go change (since we were both in our pajamas already), and Holly stared at me as I jogged down the hall.

"Where're you going this time of night?" she yelled.

"On a drive!" I replied in a yell. I searched through my suitcase for something perfect to wear like a cop searches for drugs. Was this casual? Was it romantic? How the hell should I dress?! I finally just settled on a normal button down shirt and blue jeans, then I braided my hair.

Holly yelled, "Your ride's here!" Oh shit. No time for makeup, apparently. I ran down the hallway.

"Do I look alright?" I asked her. She took a moment to decide what she thought of my appearence before nodding confidently.

"Go for it." I grinned and thanked her before going out the front door. The Point of No Return. A smile spread across George's face when he saw me, and I felt a matching one spread across mine as I realized how excited I had actually been for this drive. Or rather, this chance to spend time with George Harrison. I got into the car.

"Hello," I said.

"Ready to go?" he asked. I nodded. We talked about a lot of things, ranging from movies to music to books to our friends. George parked in front of a large tree that looked nice for climbing located in the middle of nowhere. He began to laugh. "Why the hell did I bring us here?" George asked himself.

"'Cause it's pretty?" I offered. I wasn't lying, it really was a nice sight, and it was a pretty clear night with no clouds in the sky.

George shook his head, "No. This Holly and I's spot. I proposed to her here, you know." I looked at the spot as reality hit me. I was on a drive with my best friend's ex fiance. What the hell was I doing?

"I'm sure it's because we were just talking about John and Holly," I reasoned with him aloud. "It just got her in your head." He nodded.

"You're probably right," George agreed. "Let's start back before I mess up more than I already have." I agreed, though I was slightly more tense. Isn't going out with someone's ex sort of a dick move? Besides, in about a week I was going back to New York. Who had I been kidding? I resigned myself to watching the scenery fly by as I drowned in my thoughts. I noticed that we were now parked in front of John's house.

"Well, thanks for the ride," I said, smiling. "I had a pretty good time."

"As did I." We looked into each other's eyes for a little bit before he made his move. George kissed me on the lips, and most of my doubts disappeared. "Go out with me again tomorrow?" he asked when I pulled away. I nodded.  
"Sounds gear." I got out of his car, and heard him pull away. I smiled to myself, _What's so bad about long distance relationships?_


	59. Chapter 59

_Hey, I'm back. Before I get to the chapter, I have a few things to address. I received two guest reviews, and I just couldn't get them out of my head, because they both said the SAME EXACT THINGS. I'm almost convinced that they're the same person!_

_First thing is that they both said that I'm going cliché. I don't know about the rest of you, but I write what I see in my head; if that happens to be cliché, so be it. My path for the end of this story is clear (this is obviously the latter half of "The Time of My Life"). The idea is to show how much Holly has started to "grow up" since the start of the story. Next point._

_Secondly, there was also a poor reaction to Lauren and Morgan's revival and their pairings with Paul and George, respectively. This doesn't make "The Time of My Life" 'one of those stories', because Lauren and Morgan are secondary characters, not main. The reason George went after Morgan is because he's finally over Holly, and as lone as they were in London, he thought, "Why the hell not?". A slight backstory is that when George was seventeen, he had a crush on Morgan, as well as Holly. Paul initially wasn't even attracted to Lauren; he only asked her out as a favor for Holly._

_Speaking of Paul, that bring me to the minority that actually ships Paul-Holly. I never in a million years thought that people would even consider that a pairing (if you do, tell me why in a review, because I honestly have no clue how you could!)! As a writer, I made Paul like Holly to create a little tension between the characters. Holly either doesn't notice his obvious love for her, mistakes his subtle advances as brotherly (hugs, kisses on the cheek, putting his arm around her, etc.), or sees them and chooses to ignore them. This pairing is the Dramione of my Beatleverse. It will never happen. Holly finds it impossible to have Paul as anything other than her best friend, and Paul, as a result, moves on. _

_Thanks for listening to this rant, it's probably the longest AN I have on record. Here's the chapter :)_

**Chapter 59  
Get Back**

Morgan and Lauren ended up doing something with their respective Beatles every night in that week. It was nice see them happy, but there definitely was a lingering reality that they were only in London for a week before they had to go resume their lives in New York. In the blink of an eye, the visit had ended and they had to return to America. All of us saw them off this time instead of only me.

"We'll see you again soon, if Holly ever gets to planning our wedding," John said jokingly as he gave me a lighthearted jab in the ribs. I rolled my eyes.

"It's a group effort, you know, fiance," I replied. "But for the most part, what he said."

"I definitely will look forward to it, then," Morgan said.

"Meh, do I have to?" Lauren asked. "Weddings suck."

"What if I promised you both bridesmaid spots?" I offered. Lauren seemed to consider it.

"Morgan's a bridesmaid and I'm the Maid of Honor," Lauren challenged.

"Fine," I agreed. "I don't really have anyone better to do it. I probably would have made my sister Maid of Honor by default." Paul and George both shifted their feet awkwardly as John and I had finished our platonic exchanges and Ringo and they had said a few lighthearted words regarding the night we all went out and got completely drunk (we hypocrites limited Lauren to three beers and ended up get so drunk that she was the only person who wasn't seeing doubles and could drive home. The next morning, the six of us woke up piled on top of each other, complete with the worst hangover of my entire life).

George settled with giving Morgan a very quick and awkward hug, "It might have been only a week, but I had a lot of fun with you."

"Me too," Morgan replied, trying her best to stay nonchalant. "Got my number?"

"Yep." Paul looked at Lauren, as if trying to decide what's appropriate in this context.

"What, she gets a hug, and I get nothing?" Lauren asked him jokingly. He finally loosened up and cracked a grin.

"I ended up having a really good time this week, Lauren," he told her. I could see in her eyes that Lauren was slowly devising a strategy for an 'attack hug', which is exactly what sounds like. She runs at you and screams 'attack hug', usually knocking you over in the process (or maybe I'm just really weak, who knows?).

Finally, she just broke into a run and screamed, "ATTACK HUG!" Paul caught her at the last second and avoided being knocked on his ass in public. His arms tightened around her, but not before she pulled away and gave him a crooked grin. "So this is how it's going to work, then?"

"I guess so," Paul replied, returning her crooked grin.

"Well, catch you later, McCartney," Lauren told him (this made me want to smack her, because we were running an extremely risky operation, having all four Beatles in one spot at the same time; thankfully, she didn't blow our cover), then joined Morgan with their luggage. Soon, they had vanished completely. We all looked at each other, not sure where to continue from there. I decided to be the one to break the silence.

"So, Geo," I said. Momentarily, I realized that I hadn't called George 'Geo' in a very long time. That thought gave me a strange feeling; I can't quite describe it with words. "Who's going to call first: you, or Stanley?" We all snickered, besides George, who was doing a combination of rolling his eyes, shaking his head, and laughing to himself.

"George, probably," John said. We laughed again.

Ringo turned to Paul and asked, "Did you get Lauren's phone number?"

Paul shrugged, "Nah. I didn't think that either of us were really serious. I know that for me it was just a week long thing that was fun while it lasted."

"Whatever you say," I replied. "All I know is that Lauren would come home and chatter endlessly about whatever you two did that night."

"'Paul took me to the pictures!'" John said in a very screechy falsetto that reminds me of the womens' voice on Monty Python. "'He held me hand during the whole film!'" Paul rolled his eyes.

"Shut up," he told us. "It's only six. Are we all just going to go home?"

"Remember back when we'd go into the studio and just jam?" Ringo said whistfully. "Those were the good days." He was right: those were the good days, maybe even the best days.

"We could go into my studio," I offered. "I need a track; I could just put the jam on." We all slowly agreed to my proposition, and got into our respective cars to drive to our houses to get our instruments of choice (besides Ringo, his drums were already at the studio and he went straight to EMI). I took my new Strat, happy to go try it out in the studio. Ringo was waiting for us, already sitting behind his drum kit.

"Took you all long enough," he said. "Ready to go?"

"Tuning, Ringo," George reminded him. He rolled his eyes but gave us all a bit time to tune our guitars. We joined the drummer when we were all ready. George nudged me with his foot. "You go first," he told me. "Your offer, your track." It took me a minute to think of something to do.

I started with a riff that I had thought of years ago, but I had never used. It was melodic and dark, yet bright and hopeful at the same time. George picked up on it and made an interesting counter melody. John joined us with a third counter melody; it was slightly simpler than George's and mine, but it fit in well. Paul took a second to get a groove, then joined us with a very melodic bass line. Ringo, who must have been waiting for Paul, joined the jam with a simple drum line that sounded complicated (if that makes any sense). The jam went on for almost seven minutes, before we ended it abruptly.

"Play that back," I told Paul. He was our studio guru; we had all seen George Martin do this stuff a million times, but we never bothered to learn it, much less actually remember it. Paul, however, had, and we relied on him in these situations.

"One day, I'm going to teach this to you, so I don't have to do it all the bloody time," Paul grumbled, but obliged my command and played our jam. It was so amazing. The song starts out with my little dark riff, which is about midtempo, and we go on like that for a couple of minutes, and Paul sped it up, so we all had to adjust accordingly. Then I slowed it back down to this really bluesy thing, and Paul did this really cool thing with his bass. George sped it up towards the ending, with me playing the original riff over that, then we ended it. Fucking amazing.

"Well, Holl, we'll have to have you play with us more often," George said. "That was nice."

"I concur," John agreed. I glanced at the clock.

"Well, damn, it's nine," I remarked. "No wonder I'm so knackered!"

"How are you tired right now?" Ringo asked me in wonder. "Maybe it's just because I'm the only Beatle that hasn't ever lived with you, but the Holly McFarlane I know is a right night owl."

"'S'not my fault," I defended myself as I pointed at John. "Lennon kept me up all night!" He only wiggled his eyebrows at me suggestively. I rolled my eyes.

"I agree, I'm tired too," George cut in, complete with a yawn.  
I gestured to George with the hand I had used to point at John, "See? It's not so unreasonable!" Nevertheless, we all said our farewells and headed for home. Only later would I realize that was one of the last times that the Beatles ever saw each other in good spirits, and it makes me right sad to think about it. It's similar to thinking about a lost love.

As soon as we got back to John's, I collapsed onto the couch. John collapsed on top of me. That obviously being uncomfortable, we adjusted our positions.

John sighed, "This is nice." I nodded in agreement and looked up at him.

"Can we just get married tonight?" I asked. "Bugger all of the technical stuff." He laughed.

"Don't I wish."

Not another word was said, and we just held each other. Sometimes I believe that my favorite memories happened when neither of us talked. Sometimes it's just the fact that you're together that counts.


	60. Chapter 60

_Woah. Sixty chapters. I didn't think I had it in me!_

_And I'm dreadfully sorry, but I couldn't resist splitting it into two chapters so you all could sweat it out ;) _

**Chapter 60**  
**All We Need Is Love**

_February 10th, 1970_

I stared at myself in the full length mirror as Morgan and Lauren finished buttoning the vintage 1920's style dress that had a slight modern twist that they had designed themselves for me (what it had come down to was that nothing fit my vision, so I left it to my friends). Also present in the room were my sister and Cynthia. It took me a long time to have the guts to invite her to my wedding, but John reassured me that she was my friend and that he and Cynthia were still friends that happened to have been married at one time and it wouldn't be strange.

"You look beautiful, Holly," Cynthia commented, her figure joining me in the mirror.

"I agree," said Britt. "My baby sister getting married. Never thought this would happen."

Thinking about my sister, I realized how much I was missing my brother, and that he should have been there with me. I had invited Jessica, his girlfriend, and his mother along with and she had come. We had kept in touch and were all good friends. I was glad that he was at least here in spirit.

"Ta," I said sarcastically, though I had the same level of faith in myself.

"Just meant that you like to be alone, I didn't think you'd want to be stuck with someone for the entire unforeseeable future," my sister clarified. I winked, letting her know that I knew she had been joking.

"Finishing touch!" Morgan announced as she put my veil on my head. "Ta da!"

"No, these are the finishing touch," Lauren reminded her designing partner as she handed me my bouquet.

"Holy hell," I breathed, and the women waited for me to finish the sentence. I turned to face them all. "I look like a fucking bride." They laughed.

"Oh shit!" Lauren exclaimed as she glanced at her wristwatch. "We have to go put on our dresses!" She was right; all four women were still in their streetclothes.

"We're going to go get dressed now, and if you sneek out to go get a peek at the groom, we'll know," Cynthia warned me. I nodded in agreement, still fascinated about my appearance.

Not long after they had left, there was a knock on the door. I was slightly perplexed, thinking that Paul was pretty early, but I didn't pay too much attention to it.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"Oh, you know, um... Betty!" a falsetto voice said. John.

"Come in before they notice you," I relented.

The door opened, revealing my groom. He grinned and stared at me.

"Is there something on my face from breakfast?" I asked jokingly, matching his smile.

He shook his head, "No. I'm just trying to decide if I've ever seen you look more beautiful."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" I asked. He didn't answer me, only crossed the room and kissed me. We both looked at ourselves in the mirror.

"Is that my mum's necklace?" John asked.

"Yeah," I answered. "The last time we were in Liverpool, Mimi gave it to me, told me to wear it at the wedding. It looks rather nice, if I do say so myself."

"It does."

We stood in silence for a bit, then resumed kissing when there was a knock at the door. I let out a string of curses.

"Yes?" I asked irritably.

"It's Geo, Rings, and Paulie," George said. "John said he was going to go to the loo, and he hasn't come back yet."

"As your dad would say, Holl," Paul interjected. I wondered which one of my dad's many phrases he would choose. I loved those phrases. "Either John's taking one doozy of a two-sy, or he snuck off somewhere. We were just wondering if you knew anything about that."

"Bloke's late to his own wedding," Ringo commented.

"I have no idea," I lied easily. "All I know is that the girls went to put on their dresses, and I've been alone ever since."

"Alright, we'll keep searching."

"I'll just come in now," Paul said. "I'll have been here in a couple of minutes anyways."

"Just give me a mo'!" I called, then whispered to John, "Go out the other door. I'll see you at the altar." He grinned again, then left. "Ok, you can come in!"

Paul smiled at me knowingly. "He was in here," Paul decided.

I didn't confirm it, but I didn't argue it either.

"You look nice," he said.

"I knew that, ye' daft git." Paul only chuckled and shook his head.

"You nervous at all?"

"A little bit, but I'm trying to make a lot of jokes to get rid of the seriousness," I replied.

"Yeah," Morgan confirmed. "You should've heard her in the car on the way here. She was doing the Duck News with Hugh McQuacken." Paul looked at me and shook his head.

"You still do that joke?"

Paul was right after all; I had been doing the Duck News since I was about twelve, and still pulled it out every now and again.

"Gotta keep the classics," I replied. I found that he wasn't listening to me anymore, but he was staring at my Maid of Honor.

"Lauren," he said, trying to sound nonchalant (who the hell did he think he was kidding? We all knew that he was sweating inside). "You look great."

"You look handsome," she replied.

"Am I missing something?" Cynthia asked me. I quickly explained the week long visit, which Michael McCartney interrupted.

"Are you going to flirt with that bird, Paulie, or shall I walk our sister down the aisle?" he quipped. Paul's ears turned a slight shade of pink.

"I can do it, thank you very much, Michelle." I almost felt sorry for Mike; twenty-five years old and we still called him Michelle. One thing I've learned over the years though is that no matter how hard you try, you'll never escape your past. Mike winked at me and left.

"Remind me to kick him for not telling me I'm fucking beautiful," I told Paul as I took his arm. He promised he would. "Let's go do this before I change my mind."

Paul McCartney's POV  
We stood at the beginning of the aisle, arm in arm, with everyone staring at us. Granted, we were both used to it (a Beatle and a Beatle's fiance, we had to be), but I know that I was extremely nervous.

"You ready for this?" I asked her.

"Are you?" she shot back with a grin, and all at once, it hit me. She did know. Perhaps this was her final way (besides the last fourteen years, of course) of saying 'Fuck off, McCartney. I don't want you, and I never will. At least not in that way.' Perhaps she was right. Maybe she wasn't. But we'll never know now, will we?

I didn't reply, so Holly did for me: "Let's do this shit."  
We walked down the aisle, with all of our family and friends turning to stare at her dress. I couldn't blame them; when I had told her she looked nice, it was an understatment. That woman looked like a fucking goddess.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?"

"I do," I said, then resumed my spot as best man. My father was supposed to give Holly away, but he, Angie, and Ruth had gotten stuck somewhere, and as the next oldest McCartney, I took on the role.

"We are gathered here today to witness the union of this man and this woman in holy matrimony."

Now, I think I speak for John, Holly, and I when I say I was tuning in and out during the ceremony bit. Weddings suck no matter how old you are, even if it's your own. Holly even told me that she only went to her own wedding for the cake.

It was as if I was listening to the ceremony underwater, with my thoughts blarring out any attempt the ceremony had of interrupting them. _This is it_, I realized. _Too late_. No chance of any one running out at the last minute, no chance of either of them saying no (by the look of their faces). And, I kept telling myself, I finally accepted it. My best friend, Holly McFarlane, was going to become Holly Lennon (though she never legally changed her name, in the future she had alternately used both). She never would be Holly McCartney, and probably never would have if she could. It was time to give up the girl.

"Do you, John Winston Lennon, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, as long as you both shall live?" They had omitted "for richer and for poorer" for obvious reasons.

"I will," John said, giving me a small wink, his statement an obvious reference to my song. I winked back.

"And do you, Holly Nicole McFarlane, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better and for worse, as long as you both shall live?" She was quiet for a moment, and glanced at me.

_Do it_, I mouthed.

Holly winked at me before speaking again, "Quite right."

It was so her to add wit into her agreement to be stuck with Lennon for the rest of her life.

"By the power invested in me, I pronounce these two husband and wife." -he turned to John- "You may now kiss your bride."

Oh, John kissed the bride. Believe me.

But other than the fact that I was madly in love with my best friend and partner's new wife, I was happy for them. Both of them had gotten their fair share of karma early in their lives before they could do any of the bad that they were paying for. They deserved happiness, and they wanted to share their happiness between themselves.

And it was done. John Lennon and Holly McFarlane were legally married.

And I was genuinely happy for them.


	61. Chapter 61

_Here's part two! Hope you enjoy it! _

**Chapter 60**  
**Baby It's You**

Soon after one of my top ten kisses, we were whisked off to the reception. I honestly couldn't stand being a bride much longer.

"I want a cigarette," I announced to John.

"Where the hell would you get cigarettes? You're wearing a wedding dress!"

"I had Morgan and Lauren put pockets on it," I replied matter-of-factly. "Want one?" He appeared to hesitate, but nodded in the end.

"What did my auntie say to you after the ceremony?" he asked me as I lit his cigarette with mine.

"Congradulations, or something to that effect. To be perfectly honest, I kind of tune her out sometimes," I admitted. "What did she say to you?"

John did his screechy falsetto voice, "'Well, she'll do, John. She'll do'. It like when she told me 'Well, the guitar's alright, John, but you'll never make a living out of it!'"

"She was wrong, though," I pointed out.

"That's true. We should probably put these out, we're close." We tossed the cigarettes out the window, and readied ourselves to make a grand entrance.

We walked in hand in hand, and for whatever reason, it felt different. I knew right then and there that that's where I was supposed to be. Surrounded by friends, and most importantly, John Lennon. As a sixteen year old teddy girl who had a bad temper and skipped classes to go listen to records in Blackpool with my friends, I could have never imagined being a business owner, musician, and someone's wife. To be perfectly honest, I hadn't thought I'd live to be twenty eight. I always thought that I'd drink myself to death, get into a car accident, or something. Ever since I was young, I had the strange feeling that I wouldn't live to be thirty. But look at me now!

We danced to "Kathy's Song" by Simon & Garfunkel, though our version was sung and played by three-fourths of The Beatles. It was perfect. When I imagined it in my bed while surrounded by eight different wedding magazines, I always thought I'd feel really self conscious and nervous, but I wasn't. Everyone was staring at us, but they weren't there, from my perspective. All I could see was John (my husband? Is it possible?), and all I could hear were Paul and George as they alternated verses.

"Have I told you lately that I love you?" I asked John in a whisper.

"Want to remind me?"

I gave him a kiss, "Better not forget; I'll kill you with a spoon."

He laughed, "Don't worry, I'm anti-being killed."

The song wasn't very long, and before I knew it, it was over. John dipped me at the end as a finale, and we started to exit to sit down, but Paul called me back.

"Holly, Rich, George, and I agree that for the 'first' song of the night, we want you to sing. Whatever you want."

"As long as you guys back me up," I replied as an idea formulated in my head.

The song I chose to sing was "Wear My Ring Around Your Neck" by Elvis Presley, and John couldn't stop laughing throughout the whole thing. Everyone else was laughing as well, and they danced nicely; John and Cynthia actually danced together for the song. It made me feel a little sad, but happy at the same time. They were both grinning at me.

"Thank you. Thank you very much," I said in a deep voice when I finished the song, and worked my hips once before leaving the stage.

The nice thing about having very musical friends is that everyone took turns going to sing a set. It never got boring, and there was always someone new.

About halfway through the reception, I attempted to disappear in the back with a whiskey and Coke. I was very successful for a while, until George found me.

"What're you doing back here?" he asked. "You're the bride, you're supposed to be up there whoopin' it up!"

I looked up at him over my drink, "You know me. I hate 'whoopin' it up' with a whole bunch of people."

"Want to dance?" George offered me his hand. I set down my glass and took it.

"Why the hell not?"

I don't remember what the song was anymore, but it was slow. If I had to take a guess, I would have to say "Nights in White Satin" by The Moody Blues.

"This has to suck for you," I said into my former love's shoulder.

"I admit, there was a time when I couldn't imagine you with another man besides me. Obviously, that wasn't meant to be, and seeing you and John together, it's made me realize that more and more. He loves you a lot, and you visibly love him," George replied in an oddly casual voice. "So, for a part of me, I'm sure it does, but this part of me here, no. I don't regret a thing."

"I'm glad we can just be friends again," I said. "We always said that, but it was so awkward. Now there's less sexual tension, and we can have fun again!"

"Plus, I, y'know, have a thing for Morgan," he wiggled his eyebrows. I laughed and shook my head.

The song ended, and I went back to my whiskey. Added to my list of people I danced with were: Lauren, Paul, Julian, Ringo, John again, and Morgan. I had George to blame for them all finding my hiding spot (except for Julian. I asked him to dance myself).

Eventually, the party wound down, and it was time for John and I to be off to our honeymoon. We were headed for Italy; a place that I was obsessed with but had never been there. John, of course, had almost been everywhere in the world, but that didn't mean we couldn't enjoy it. I turned back to look back at everyone, all waving us goodbye. Faces were registered in my mind for brief seconds; George, Ringo, Paul, Julian, Cynthia, Britt and her family, Lauren, Morgan. I turned to look at John, and we smiled at each other for a moment before getting into the car.

_Though I know I'll never lose affection_

_For people and things that went before_

_I know I'll often stop and think about them_

_But in my life, I love you more_

_In my life, I love you more_


	62. Chapter 62

_I don't really blame any of you if you don't really like this chapter. I don't know if any of you have ever read that "Yes It Is" is an attempt to rewrite "This Boy", but that's what this chapter feels like to me. An attempt to rewrite Chapter 16. _

_At any rate, tell me what you think, like always. _

_-Starkiller_

**Chapter 62**  
**I Put A Spell On You**

I woke up in bed alone the day after John and I returned from our honeymoon.  
"Arghh..." I moaned lazily as I turned over, and I felt something crumple underneath my stomach. It was a short note that was written in the terrible Lennonesque handwriting that we all teased him for.

_Morning, Mrs Lennon!  
I ran to the store to get cornflakes and some eggs. I was hungry this morning. Hopefully you'll be awake when I get back.  
I love you!  
-Mr Lennon_

"Since when did you know how to cook shit?" I asked the note before rolling onto my back. Of course, it didn't answer me.

I closed my eyes again, and thought about the wierd-ass dream that I had the night before. In the dream, a bunch of Feds (they were American, not British. It was a dream, don't expect anything to make too much sense) came to our door and took me away in a sleek black car. They took me to some official looking government building, and told me that I wasn't the real Holly McFarlane, but a clone of her that had been trained to act and think like her. It was so surreal, and realistic at the same time. The man told me that it was alright if I didn't quite understand, because I would wake up soon. Then, like he said, I woke up. Creepy stuff.

My eyes opened again, and I swung my legs over the side of the bed. As soon as I started to get up, I was filled with dizziness, which soon turned into nausea. I ran to the bathroom, predicting that I was about to vomit. As with most things, whether The Beatles/others will admit it or not, I was right.

"I'm back, love!" John called from downstairs. I cursed, hoping that he would have been gone longer, so I would have time to brush my teeth and get tidied up so he would have never known that I had puked up every single solitary thing in my stomach moments before.

"In the loo," I croaked.

A pair of feet were quickly coming up the stairs, as I had feared that they would. I absolutely hate it when I'm sick, because people always want to take care of me, and I don't like to be dependent on someone.

"Were you just puking?" my husband asked me, though it was obvious I had: I was extremely pale, still kneeling on the floor, and I hadn't flushed the toilet yet.

"Yeah, but I'm fine now," I replied. "I've just got some sort of bug."

He raised an eyebrow and looked at me over his glasses; we all know that I have a very lengthy history of playing down my illnesses. "You sure?" John asked.

"Yes!" I said. "Go back downstairs and make your breakfast. I'll be down in a mo'."

He crossed the room and kissed my head before leaving to go back downstairs. I brushed my teeth, looked at myself in the mirror, then made my own way down the stairs.

"I suppose it's safe to assume you won't be eating?" John asked as I situated myself at the kitchen table.

"Easily," I replied, and began to overanylize the kitchen while wating for John to get his food so we could have a conversation. While glancing at the walls, my eyes fell on the calendar.

_Ten weeks since the wedding, one day since the end of our honeymoon, and-wait a minute_, I thought.

I remembered with a jolt that I had absolutely no clue when I had last had my period. Dammit. It all made perfect sense, like putting the last piece of the puzzle. LIke why the night before the smell of dinner had disgusted me, when it was one of my Top Ten meals, and, more importantly, why I had vomited no more than ten minutes before.

"Shit," I cursed allowed, and glanced at my husband, who was shovelling corn flakes into his mouth and reading the paper, completely and blissfully oblivious to my growing problem.

John looked up at me over the edge of the paper, "Mm?"

"Nothing that concerns you quite yet," I dismissed his attention. He shrugged and went back to his paper, all the while muttering about 'women'.

I quickly excused myself upstairs to take a peek at my own personal calendar that I kept for this very reason. My eyes skipped over my sarcastic and witty scribbles while they searched for the desired information. I was right again. I was late. I'm never late.

Broken fragments of a conversation I had had when I was younger played over and over in my mind like a broken record.

_"I've felt like shit for about a week, and I don't know why!" _

_"Shitty how?" _

_"I don't know. I'm starving but I feel like puking, and everything hurts, I can't get any sleep, that sort of thing. Y'know, shitty." _

_"Holly, you and George haven't, erm, done anything lately, have you?" _

_"You think I'm... pregnant?!"_

It echoed in my head. Over, and over, and over, and over.

"This must be a record for me," I muttered, and stashed the mini-calendar away.

"Hey, love!" John called from downstairs, ripping me away from my problem. "Come down 'ere! McCartney's on the phone!" I stood up (slowly this time so I wouldn't puke again) and came down the stairs yet again.

"'Lo?" I answered.

"Hi, Missy," Paul greeted me. "I was on the phone with George Martin today."

"Yeah?"

"We said we want to make an album like we did in the old days," my best friend told me. "Let's face it, _Let It Be_ was an absolute disaster."

"If you want to make an album like we did in the old days," I said, "I'd be behind the glass listening to the proceedings with Martin."

"That's exactly what I said," Paul agreed. "So, d'you want to come to the studio today or not? John said you were a touch under the weather." Damn him.

"Just a bug I must have caught on vacation," I replied, though it sounded more like I was reassuring myself than him. _Or any night BEFORE the wedding_, the pessimistic side of me said sarcastically. "I'll definitely be there."

"Gear. Well, at any rate, we'll see you there, and get well soon."

"Ta, we'll be there!" I hung up the phone and joined John on the couch. "I told you that I was fine," I said to him.

He put his arm around my shoulders and replied slightly sardonically, "If puking up most of last night's meal is being 'fine', then you are definitely the healthiest woman alive."

He had me there, y'know.

We left for the studio at about eleven or so. The band tossed around some songs, and asked my opinion on the list. I had referred to myself as The Fifth Beatle many times, but now it was almost as if I was. The list was nice, and it become one of my favorite Beatles albums (I don't know if that's ironic or not, considering it was the last one).

During our lunch break that we took at noon, I quietly slipped away to buy myself a pregnancy test. The possibility was gnawing at my mind, and it made it very hard to think musically. I just wanted to know for sure.

During the drive, I thought about what I was going to do, and what I wanted. I had always pictured myself having a couple of kids, but not until I was old. Twenty seven going on twenty eight didn't feel old, but it sure wasn't young. It was close to thirty, and I considered thirty old. Besides, I wasn't too bad with Julian or my sister's kids. Maybe "getting old" and being a parent wasn't so terrible.

I have a mental list of Ten Most Awkward Things to Buy at a Store, and pregnancy tests are high at the top of the list. The girl behind the counter and I shared an awkward, knowing look before I paid. I just wanted to slip away so I could get away from the situation.

Back at the studio, things went relatively quick. They made some demos, took another tea break, argued, made more demos, then headed for home. I was about to do the same, when George called me back to stay.

"I'll drive you home," he offered. I shrugged to John, who nodded and left with the other two.

"What's up?" I asked as I sat back down in "my chair", the chair I had listened to The Beatles change music history in.

"I wanted to play you something," George said as he got comfortable with his guitar across from me. "Tell me what you think."

"Too shy?" I asked. "Or just pussy?"

"Probably a combination of both," he admitted with a chuckle.

The song that George played me was "Something". I enjoy the studio version, but when I think of "Something", I always think of that first time that George had ever played it to me. It seemed more poignant and full of emotion. For whatever reason, that song always makes me a little sad, but that's me, I suppose. I always feel sad about the strangest things, even if they aren't in the least bit depressing or upsetting.

Also, that playing of "Something" is one of the few times that someone ever actually played me a song, and perhaps that's why it means so much to me. The only other songs I can remember being played to me privately are "Long, Long, Long", "Yesterday", and "Across the Universe".

George looked up at me with a searching look in his eyes when he had played the final chord. He didn't say anything, he only probed me with his eyes.

"You've really become a damn talented writer, y'know?" I told him. "They need to put your stuff on the albums more often, because that was fucking beautiful."

He looked at his shoes and smiled, "Yeah, well, it should be. It's about you, y'know. The strangest things happen. One day I think I'm ready to conquer the world, and the next, I'm still in love with Holly McFarlane like I was all those years ago. It's odd, isn't it?"

I shook my head, "It isn't odd at all. I have those days all the time, where I roll over in bed and expect it to be you instead of John. Then I come to my senses and remember that I was time traveling again. I think that everyone holds a place in their heart for all of their lost loves, no matter how long gone that love is." I was silent for a moment before saying, "And I don't think you have a reason to be nervous about showing them that song. You should be proud of it. You should want to parade it up and down Abbey Road, for Chrissakes!"

George laughed. "Ta," he said, then returned to his trademark seriousness. "Hey, I don't mean to pry or anything, but is there something wrong? You've had a look on your face all day."

Damn, was it that obvious?

"It's nothing," I lied.

He gave me the look, "C'mon, you can tell me. I almost married you, for God's sake, I should know how to tell when something's on your mind."

"Fine. I might be pregnant," I admitted. "I don't know."

George nodded, but didn't elaborate. That's one of my favorite things about George. He listens, he understands, and he keeps quiet. There are things that I told him when I was fifteen that he's never told a soul to this day. I love him for it.

"Well, we better get you home, then," he said quietly.

The drive home was long and quiet, and not a word of the conversation we had at the studio was spoken of, and I was thankful for that. All the more reason for me to drown in my thoughts.

George pulled into the driveway, and said a sentence that hasn't ever left me. It probably doesn't seem important, and I'm most likely overthinking it, but I believe that there's more to the sentence than meets the eye. For whatever reason, it had a deep affect on me.

"I hope everything turns out the way you want it to."

I didn't speak for quite a while, and only stared at him. "You too," I decided on, and went inside to solve my problem once and for all.

I only gave John a quick "hello" kiss before running up the stairs to, y'know. Do my business.

Let me tell you. Waiting for a pregnancy test is the longest wait of your life. It feels like a million years. When it finally does tell you your fortune, however, the time seems so short.

"Is everything alright up there?" John yelled up the stairs.

"Just fine," I replied as I stared at the little '+' sign, trying to decide how I was feeling. "Peachy fucking keen."


	63. Chapter 63

**Chapter 63**  
**Time Warp**

John quickly began to ascend the stairs, much to my dismay. I had been hoping that he would just let me be, so I could decide my feelings on the matter (after all, it was I who had to be stuck with the kid for the next nine months). There were so many thoughts running through my mind that it was hard to pick out just one and say, "I'm _".

He poked his head through the bathroom door again, "What're you doing in here? You've been in here for almost twenty minutes!"

I didn't reply something sarcastic or witty, only held up the test results that I had been staring at for the last ten minutes. His face hosted an odd mixture of emotions; confusion, surprise, and finally, elation. John didn't speak either. He crossed the room and took me in his arms.

"What are you thinking?" he murmured into my hair.

"Dunno," I replied. "What're you thinking?"

"Yippee."

Well, at least one of us is happy. I'm not saying that I wasn't happy that I was going to be a mum; in fact, there was a part of me that was extremely happy and excited. I was just really nervous, and the timing just didn't feel right. Not that it ever does, of course. And no matter how many times I told it not to, my mind was straying to a place I didn't want it to go. I hoped that I could keep the demons at bay long enough to throw John off track for a while, though.

"'M sleepy," I told him truthfully. It was probably ten or so, and it had been a long fricking day. I had earned that sleep.

"Alright, we can go to bed," John agreed. "It's going to be an all-nighter at the studio again tomorrow. Are you up for it?"

I shook my head, "Nah. I kinda want a Holly day, y'know?"

We climbed into bed, and I hoped he would answer soon, because as soon as I laid my head on my pillow I was fighting to stay awake. His arm draped itself over my side.

"That's fine. Good night, love."

"Good night. Love you."

"Love you."

John Lennon's POV  
I woke up in the morning and drove to EMI before she woke up, thinking about the events of the day before. It made perfect sense why Holly had been acting strangely during the day, but it boggled my mind as to why she was acting strange after "the reveal". It should have been easy for me to read her, since we were so similar in the ways we act out on and deal with our emotions. Perhaps that's what made it so hard to read her, now that I think about it.

Our day went much like this: record, argue, tea, repeat as nessicary. During one of our tea breaks, I told the band about Holly. Ringo congradulated me, and Paul and George both nodded. George had one of those thoughtful looks on his face.

"How's Holly?" Paul asked.

"That's the thing, I don't know," I answered. "When I asked her what she thought, she said she didn't know. How do you not know?"

"She's probably scared," George supplied.

"Elaborate," I said.

"Well, she was pregnant before, and she lost that baby," George answered.

"She's thinking, _What if...? I_ think that miscarriage had a larger effect on her than she lets on. God knows she never talked to me about it."

_Not to mention that it completely disintigrated her relationship_, I thought.

"Back to the one song, yeah?" Paul offered, noticing the silence that had fallen over the room. We didn't usually like to talk about Holly when she wasn't there (she absolutely hates that, because a lot of that happened when she was in school), so one of us usually tries to save us all from going past The Point of No Return.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"How many cups of tea between us do you think we drank just today?" Ringo commented as he set his cup down and stood up to follow Paul.

You know, that's a pretty good question, actually.

Holly McFarlane's POV  
I woke up to an empty bed, which didn't surprise me all that much. The Beatles liked to record early and end late, always had. For maybe an hour or more, I laid in that spot and stared at the ceiling, just thinking about my place. I had secretly (so secretly, in fact, that I didn't even know it!) loved one guy since I was a teenager, and somehow through it all (him being married, me being me), I ended up married to him and, now, pregnant with his baby. Surreal.

I didn't know how I felt about this. No matter how much I kept telling my mind not to, it kept wandering to Lilian. How could it not? I think that it had changed me forever, and broke the last little shred of innocence inside of me. Besides, me losing that baby was key in the disintigration of George and I's relationship. Jesus knows that despite being terrible at athletics, I'm great at running. If I lost this baby, who says the same thing couldn't happen to me and John?

The only thing that interrupted my bitter thoughts was a growl in my stomach, indicating that I was hungry. I was running on the energy from two days before, so I believe I had the right to be. I made sure to get up very slowly, and walked down the stairs to make myself some breakfast, but when I sat down to eat, the smell of it made me get sick.

"Fuck..." I moaned as I sat on my knees in the bathroom. "Let's not make a habit of this, ok?" I brushed my teeth, gurgled water, and went back downstairs.

Screw eating, apparently.

"Bash it all!" I announced to no one. "Who needs food? Let's just write some songs on an empty stomach! Yeah!" When I'm home alone, I tend to talk to myself and curse in abundance. Don't judge me, you all know you do it too.

In the next couple of hours, I penned down a very strange, quirky song that would later be one of the songs I'm known for. To this day, I'm not even quite sure what it's even inspired by. It just came out of the sky like a One Eyed One Horned Flying Purple People Eater.

Soon, the front door opened, and John said, "Honey, I'm home!" Like we were some old couple or something.

"In the music room!" I called back. He came in quickly and kissed my head. "Is it really that late?" I asked him as I set down my Strat and turned around to give him a kiss on the mouth.

"Nah, I skipped out for lunch," he replied. "How're you feeling?"

"Puked again today, said, 'To hell with food', and came here and been here ever since."

"Oh. Well, did you write anything worthwhile in the meantime?"

"That depends," I said as I picked the Strat back up. "Wanna have a listen?"

John said yes, sat down across from me, and listened to me as I sang the strange song I had just came up with and played the odd, almost sour sounding chords. Essentially, the main character is wandering aimlessly around some town while strange things happen to her. It sort of reminds me of "Ballad of a Thin Man" by Bob Dylan. How the stupid song became so popular is completely beyond me.

"What d'you think? Record material?" I asked.

"Anything you write is record material, love," John told me wisely. "Anyways, I did come home to tell you something."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," John said while he took my hands. "What I'm going to say is the secret to a good marriage is communication (that's what they keep telling me, anyways. Personally, I think the secret is great sex). The point is, if you could give me some insight into what your thinking, that would be great, because then I have to be worried about you all the damn time!"

I looked up at him, "Well, we're two of the same, aren't we?" I shot back with a grin.

"Just tell me if you've spent the whole day thinking about Lilian," John asked, though it was probably more of an order than anything.

"Fine, yes, I've spent my entire day overanylizing Lilian," I answered.

"Well, don't," John ordered. "That was then, and this is now. I'm picking up good vibrations."

"Since when did John Lennon like The Beach Boys?" I asked.

"I always have."

"Really? I thought you called them stupid," I recalled.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Don't you have to get back to the studio soon?" I ended the dispute as I glanced at the clock.

"Wanna come with?" I took his hand, and he led me down the stairs and out the door.

"Let's record some shit!" I said, my heart feeling lighter as all of the dread was expelled from it.

One of the many things I've learned from John Lennon is to live in the present, which is what I intend to do.


	64. Chapter 64

_Hey-ooo (Anyone get my Billie Joe Armstrong reference? ;))!_

_Sorry there hasn't been anything from me to read. I've been really busy lately. I'm in a play, I've been writing original stuff, I've been going on field trips, I've been at school, etc., etc. I know what you're thinking: "Tisk, tisk. Excuses, excuses, Starkiller." Just bear with me, would ya? _

_This is a sorry excuse for a chapter, even by my standards. It's essentially just a little some-some to tide you all over until school's out in a couple weeks. _

_-Starkiller :) (Here's a smile from me to you, so you don't want to kill me with a roque mallet Shining-style over this chapter!)_

**Chapter 64**  
**A Lover's Love Will Not Fade Away**  
The note I left on the counter for John read:

_Good morning, Starshine!_

_I left around ten to go out with Maureen and Cyn for brekkie, then we're going to go shopping (and yes, I did in fact tell you in advance). Don't worry, I'll come to the session after lunch._

_And I'm feeling fine, thank you for asking!_

_I love you!_

_-Girl_

I ran out to the car waiting in our driveway that had the other Beatlewives in it. Though the Beatlewives group had fluctuated over the years, (first it was a lineup of Cynthia, me, Jane, and Maureen. Then you take away Jane, because Paul just couldn't keep it in his pants. Next, Cynthia goes, but we still count her because she's our friend, and I come back into the picture as I take Cynthia's position. It's quite complicated), we still had a core group that we called the Beatlewives and still tried to go out and do things like we did in The Good Old Days.

"I assume the husband is still asleep?" Maureen asked, who was driving.

"I expect he'll come to around thirty minutes before he has to go to Abbey Road," I replied.

Cynthia shook her head with a grin, "Same old John."

"Where're we headed for breakfast?" I asked from the backseat. "I'm famished."

"I'd expect you'd be," Maureen said with a grin.

"I get the feeling that I'm missing something here," Cynthia said.

"I'm pregnant," I elaborated. My voice sounded so casual, as if it were a normal occurrence in my life (though as I write this now, a good twenty years older than I was, I'm surprised it wasn't, for all of the unprotected sex that I had before it finally caught up with me two years later).

"See, this is what happens when you move back to Hoylake!" Cynthia exclaimed. "Go back home for a little while, and all of a sudden, BAM!, one of your best mates is pregnant and doesn't tell you!" Maureen and I laughed. One a serious note, she added, "Julian is going to be really excited. Are you planning to tell him, or shall I?"

"You can tell him," I replied. "As long as he knows I'm not going to be the most fun Holly-mum for the next eight months or so."

"It's so cute how he calls you that," Maureen said as she turned into the parking lot. "Holly-mum."

"It is rather adorable," Cynthia agreed. "I remember he came home once about two years ago and I asked him what he did at Daddy's, and he said, 'I played cars with Holly-mum, and then we played a game with Dad, and we played music, then we watched the telly!'. I laughed so hard."

"Cyn, you and I are the strangest people ever," I commented as I opened the door of the car to get out.

"Elaborate?"

"I fell in love with your husband, and now I'm married to him and we're expecting a child, and yet we're still best mates, as if nothing happened!" I explained, and we all laughed.

"It doesn't matter. All things must pass," she shrugged. "Besides, I've got a boyfriend now."

Maureen and I looked at each other, then back at Cynthia, "Oooh! Do tell, sister!"

After breakfast, we went shopping, as planned. I bought some new shirts (thinking back on it, it probably wasn't the best plan, because in a month or so, I wouldn't be able to wear them), a pair of calf-length boots, and then I dragged them to the music store and bought myself a Les Paul and a copy of Rolling Stone, so I could read or work on my own material when things got dull at the studio. Believe it or not, that happens from time to time.

After the two girls dropped me off at home, I drove myself to Abbey Road, my new guitar and magazine in the passenger seat (it was my first Rolling Stone cover from the photoshoot we had done a couple of months ago. This is probably one of my second proudest achievements). It is probably my favorite picture of myself, besides the one taken of me and George at the premiere for _A Hard Day's Night_. I looked good in that one, too.

"Start the party, Holly's here!" I called as I walked into the studio. The whole room rolled their eyes.

"You were a lot more fun when you were my drinking partner," Ringo said.

"If you want to blame someone for that, blame can't-keep-it-in-his-pants-Lennon," I defended myself.

"You're forgetting, it takes two to tango," John reminded me as he gave me a kiss on the head.

"Hey, Holl, I've got the finished product pretty much worked out, if you want to hear," George called to me from across the room. I knew which song he was talking about instantly, and ran across the room.

George grinned at me, "Ready?"

"I'm-a ready, Teddy," I replied. He played the song, and I listened hard.

After a while, he asked, "What d'you think?"

"I liked it better the first time I heard it," I admitted.

"Well that's just too bad, in'it?" he said. "My lady, could I have this dance?"

"It's my pleasure," I replied as I took his hand and we spun and twirled to the amazing guitar of "Something".

"I'm so proud of you, y'know that?" I whispered to my ex-fiance.

"Shaddup and dance, woman," he whispered back playfully.

Paul McCartney's POV

I gazed at George and Holly dancing like a pair of children as I sipped my tea. Ringo was next to me, and John had disappeared to go work on some song of his.

"Y'know that you can't have her," Ringo said. "She's signed, sealed, and delievered."

"I know that better than anyone," I said as I sipped my tea again. "But that doesn't change a thing."

"I know, but you're going to have to hide your love away pretty good, otherwise this'll all blow up in your face, mark my words," he told me.

"Ta for the optimism, Ringo," I thanked him sarcastically.

"I'm not being optimistic, I'm just giving you the truth," he said as he got up. I sighed.

_Her majesty's a pretty nice girl, but she doesn't have a lot to say.  
Her majesty's a pretty nice girl, but she changes from day to day.  
I wanna tell her that I love her a lot, but I gotta get a belly full of wine.  
Her majesty's a pretty nice girl, and someday I'm gonna make her mine, oh yeah.  
Someday I'm gonna make her mine._


	65. Chapter 65

_I'm sorry for the long wait! I had a very hectic last couple of weeks, and today I decided I hated my original chapter sixty five and completely scraped the whole thing to start anew. I hope you all enjoy it, and again, I apologize._

_-Starkiller_

**Chapter 65**

**Silly Love Songs**

The morning sun woke me, the rays streaming through my window and warming my face. I lifted my head from John's chest and glanced at the clock. It was eleven thirty. I didn't even know I had it in me to sleep that late. Guess John was really rubbing off on me.

_Abbey Road_ had been released and The Beatles had disbanded, and though it was hard to believe, it was something I was coming to terms with, though I was doing it slowly, because it's not easy to say goodbye to something that played such a pivotal role in my life for eight amazing years. We were all taking some time off; George was escaping to India for a few months, Paul was going away to his farm in Scotland for awhile, and Ringo was taking his whole little family away on holiday, which left me and John in London. The break up allowed us to many things, and one of those things that we were grateful for was the freedom to do anything and everything. Even pretend that we didn't have names and we were just some old marrieds who fell in love more and more each day.

Now that I was awake for good, I decided to pull John out of his golden slumbers as well. I shifted my position and began planted soft kisses all over his body. He sighed, and kissed me back once I had worked my way back up to his face.

"G'morning, love," he said in his morning voice.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" I said cheekily. "I thought that it might be nice to get an early start this morning."

"Feels like you woke me up at five," he said after looking at the clock. He rubbed his eyes groggily.

"Well, the flowers aren't going to plant themselves!" I told him as I rolled myself out of bed, and began to dress myself.

"Don't you have enough flowers?" John complained as I buttoned my shirt.

"These ones are for the front. All the others were for the back," I explained. "'S not my fault that this place is so void of color."

"Oh," he said sardonically as he propped himself up on his elbow. "Great."

I stared at myself in the full length mirror for a moment without answering him. He got up and his reflection joined me in the mirror. Mirror-John snaked his arms around my torso and kissed my neck gently. Eventually, his reflection left to go get dressed himself. When he got back, I was still in front of the mirror.

"What're you looking for in there?" he quipped.

"Is it just me, or does my shirt have a tighter fit than originally intended?" I asked him. I had been staring at myself in mp the mirror for so long, but after a while I had come to the conclusion that sonce I had been staring so long, I was likely to imagine something that wasn't there.

"I dunno, maybe," John replied. He stepped in front of me and began unbuttoning my shirt. When it was unbuttoned,he fell away to my side so that I would be the one in front of the mirror again.

"Well?" I asked.

"I think so," John smiled, but it wavered a bit. "God, it makes me wish I was there for Julian."

"That's time that you'll never get back, but you've always got the future," I told him.

"That's why I love you," John said as he pecked my cheek and left out the door that connected us to the bathroom.

"And why is that?"

"You always tell me what I want to hear to make me feel better," John told me as he turned on the faucet. "But the funny thing is is that all it is that you tell me is the honest truth."

I thought about that for a moment before I replied. I decided a quip was the best route to go. "You better not be doing anything in there but shaving, Griswold!" I yelled playfully as I quickly rebuttoned my shirt.  
. . . .

After a quick breakfast, we met each other outside and transported all of the flowers I had bought in town the day before from the trunk of my car (an Aston Martin DB5 identical to James Bond's, thank you very much! God, I miss that car) to the back yard.

"What's the plan of attack?" John asked as we looked at the two areas on either side of the house I had prepared for flower habitation over the course of the week.

"You take a bunch of flowers and plant in the left one, and I'll take a bunch and plant in the right one," I told him. "And _do_ try to match the colors."

"I _did_ go to art school, y'know," he informed me as he began picking out his flowers.

"You were expelled and had failing grades in most of your classes," I quipped.

"So?" he asked. "And now that I think about it, didn't the doctor say you weren't supposed to be doing things of this sort?"

"You know what I say about doctors," I replied as I got down on my knees and began to dig up soil. "Fuck 'em."

We both worked quietly for a while, ocassionally singing songs. I was humming a riff that I had thought up the night before in the shower when I felt a chunk of dirt hit my back. I turned around to see the all-too-innocent image of John planting irises. I took a handful of dirt and tried to fashion it into a ball, and I threw it at him. He turned around quickly and grinned at me.

"You're on, woman."

We officially were in an all-out dirt fight. The fight ended when I sprayed John with the garden hose, which rendered him useless because of his glasses. We looked into each other's eyes, and burst out laughing. I threw my arms around him, and began to drag him toward the house.

"Come on, let's go shower."

"Together?"

"Keep on dreaming, boy."


	66. Chapter 66

_Ah, the dreaded Lauren and Morgan arc again. I got some pissing and moaning last time, so I hope there's a little less of that this time. I needed something to write, so I thought I'd stick them on another plane, and hey-ho, here we go! See you guys at the bottom. Stay awesome, bros. MERRRRRR! Did I do a good Pewdiepie impression? I hope so :)_

_-Starkiller :)_

**Chapter 66  
With A Little Help From My Friends**

Morgan's POV  
"So, do you want to go home with me or not?" I asked Lauren. I had no reason to go except that I wanted to, but sometimes you've got to do things just because you want to.

"Why do want to go home all of a sudden?" Lauren yelled from my kitchen, her mouth full of my food. Some things never change.

"George is coming back from India, and I want to visit him again," I admitted.

"You two are still talking?" she asked.

"Yeah, we are," I said. "What're you and Paul doing?"

"Absolutely nothing," Lauren said. "It was a one week stand." Bullshit. They were definitely flirting at Holly's wedding, and Lauren talked about him all the time, and she listened to Abbey Road nonstop. JUST ADMIT YOU FUCKING LIKE EACH OTHER! Oops, sorry. That was rage Morgan.

"He's coming home from Scotland as well," I tempted her.

"Fine," she said, admitting defeat. "I'll go home and pack..."

I smiled in triumph, "Remember, plane leaves at ten."

. . . .  
"Where are we going first?" Lauren asked from the seat next to me.

I sipped my complementary non-alcoholic beverage, "I was thinking that we go bother Holly and John first. I know that Ringo and Maureen and the kids are still on holiday for another week or so. They're in Greece, or somewhere near there, I think. Then we split ways and go visit George and Paul, respectively."

"John and Holly have a new house, don't they?" Lauren asked as she stared at her Coke, no doubt thinking about how much better it would be with a little shot of Scotch in it, but she was getting better about that. She hadn't had a drink in a long time, but I know she still thought about it from time to time.

"Yeah, they do," I agreed. "Let me think for a bit and try to remember the directions..."

Holly McFarlane's POV  
The doorbell rang, and I groaned. I was comfortably sitting on the couch, watching reruns of Doctor Who.

"John!" I yelled. "Door!"

"Could you get it?!" he yelled back.

"Come on!" I said. "You're an able bodied person who's not pregnant!"

"Please?"

I got myself up and yelled to him irritably, "Bastard!" The person at the door rang the bell again. "Oh, shut the fuck up, would ye'?" I asked them before opening the door. It was Morgan and Lauren. "Hey!" I said, my mood immediately changing.

"Whoa, when did that happen?" Lauren asked as she pointed at my stomach. Morgan elbowed her, and I laughed.

"Come in," I laughed as I pulled them inside.

"Well," Lauren said. "You still didn't answer my question."

I grinned, "About five months ago, give or take. You know me, I have no sense of time."

"Lennon doesn't waste any time, does he?" she muttered. We laughed.

"John!" I yelled up the stairs. "Get your ass down here! You'll never guess who was at the door!"

"Unless it was the Queen, I don't really care!" he said. "And even then, I'm not sure I really care. I'm writing, love, and I think I'm on to something!"

"I'm offended, John!" Morgan yelled jokingly.

"Yeah, I thought we was mates, Johnny!" Lauren joined in. Footsteps rushed down the stairs, and his face lit up when he actually saw my friends.

"Hey, you two!" he greeted them with a grin and a huge group hug. "What're ye' doing here?"

"Thought we'd pop in and bother you guys while we're in the neighborhood," Lauren replied.

"You certainly are good at that," John joked as I came back from the kitchen, where I was getting us some grape juice. Since I had gotten pregnant and couldn't just knock back a pint whenever I wanted, I had really gotten into juices. I had even bought us a juicer and made new weird concoctions while it's John's turn using the music room.

"Did you guys hear that Geo and Paul are back this week?" I asked.

"That's sort of why we came," Morgan blushed. "We wanted to surprise them."

"Need a place to stay?" I offered. "We've got way too many bedrooms in this house. I had to start turning them into other things after I had the essential bedrooms picked out like the master and Jules's and the baby's, like my writing room, or my mini library. It got to be quite a laugh to think of things to turn all of these rooms into!"

"You've got a library?!" Morgan asked. "This way better than a hotel!"

"Welcome to Lè Lennon," I told them. "I don't guarantee that you'll come out the same way you came in, but you're welcome to stay."

_Blech, this chapter had A LOT of dialogue. Oh well, fuck it. I just wanted to get this one up to introduce the arc. The next chapter should be a lot cooler. It will have Morgan and Lauren's interactions with their respective former Beatles, and we'll see where they all stand. It's gonna get interesting! _

_Love you guys! And in the words of Aerosmith: "The way I see it, you gotta say shit, but don't forget to drop me a line." And by line, you know I mean review. Oh well, I close it now. _

_-Starkiller_


	67. Chapter 67

**Chapter 67  
Missing You**

Morgan's POV

As I drove to Kinfauns, I wondered how George would react to me being there. I mean, we had talked on the phone, but what does that really say? Were we actually together? Was either of us really looking for a relationship? Where do we go now? At the end of the day, I'm always only there for about three weeks before I have to go back home.

Then there was The Beatles thing. I was still friends with Paul, John, and Ringo. Could I still talk about them with George, or would he still be angry at them? He had complained about Paul in the studio a lot to me on the phone. He used to complain about John, but I think Holly's really rubbed off on John and that he's a little less controlling and goes with the flow a bit more than he used to.

God, are relationships always this awkward?

I parked in the driveway and got out to go knock on the door. While I waited for him to come answer, I quickly checked myself out in the reflection of his front window. Something always manages to go wrong in a short drive. Make up's still good, shirt's still tucked in, and shoes are still tied- all is in order.

George opened the door, and his face lit up when he saw me. My smile matched his. He gave me a short but tight hug. "Morgan!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you call me and tell me you were going to be in town?"

"I wanted to surprise you," I explained, my grin never leaving my face. I took a second to look at George. I hadn't seen him since Holly and John's wedding, and he had changed quite a bit. His hair was still pretty long, but he had gotten a little bit of it cut off, and he had shaved his mustache and beard (much to my relief).

"Well, I'm definitely surprised," George said. "Come on in."

We sat down and drank tea. I was surprised how clean and organized the house was for it being owned by a man who lives alone with two cats and hasn't had a woman in it for a long time.

"So, George," I said as I sat down my tea. "I'm going to do something that Holly keeps telling me to do, which is 'embrace my inner Holly'. I think I finally know what the hell that means."

He smiled at me, "Should that frighten me as much as it does?"

"I don't know yet," I answered. "Listen, George, what are we? Are we together, or are we friends? Do you want a relationship, or-" He shut me up by kissing me, which is something that I hadn't felt in a long time, but I think that it's even better the second time.

"There, see, we both just pulled a Holly," George joked after he pulled away. "And the only way that I want a relationship is if it's with you."

"So, boyfriend," I grinned at the term. "What do you want to do now?"

"Let's go on a drive," he decided as he took my hand and pulled me out the door.

Lauren's POV  
After losing rock-paper-scissors with Morgan, she got the rental car to drive to George's. Personally, I think I was the actual winner, because Holly loaned me her Aston Martin to drive to Paul's. I put my foot all the way down on the gas pedal for a few brief seconds so I could have the satisfaction of hearing it purr, then let up so I wouldn't get a ticket. At the moment, I was thinking about just stealing the car instead of going to Paul's. But I didn't do that, though I should have.

Truth be told, I did like Paul. He was cute, he was funny, and he made me feel good about myself, especially when I was trying to give up drugs and booze and I felt really shitty about myself. There was just one problem. I knew that he liked Holly. I'm not stupid.

I wasn't sure how Paul viewed us, but I was about to find out.

He came out to meet me, since I was in Holly's car, so he thought that I was Holly. Paul was surely surprised when it was me, Lauren with the messy blonde hair and tight clothes, almost the exact opposite of Holly.

"Lauren!" he said, a smile spreading across his face, though he was still obviously surprised. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Holiday," I replied. "Figured I'd come waste your time while I'm in the neighborhood."

"Oh, you're never wasting my time," he said romantically as he lead me around the house. We sat out on the porch with a couple of drinks, which overlooked his gorgeous property. It really was something, though he told me that it was nothing compared to Scotland, and that he wanted to take me to his farm sometime.

He was holding my hand and rubbing it with his thumb, and I turned to look at him. "Paul, what the hell are we doing here?" I asked.

"I don't really know anymore," he said. "I told myself that what happened was a one week stand, yet I keep thinking about you." Paul's doe eyes met mine, and I melted. "You really are an amazing girl, Lauren."

I steeled myself again, remember what I had thought in the car. "As much as I don't mind wasting your time, I don't like wasting mine. What I'm trying to say is that I'd love to love you, Paul, but I know you love Holly. I'm not stupid."

Paul looked up at me with a pained look in his eyes, "God, I wish I didn't have to love her and I could love only you, Lauren."

I sighed, "So do I, Paul. So do I."


	68. Chapter 68

_We have a ghost from the past visiting this chapter. Guess who?_

_Also, can you guess who the Japanese woman is?_

**Chapter 68  
You're Crazy**

The doorbell rang again about five times per second. I groaned, assuming that it was that Japanese woman. I suppose I should explain. One day when John was out getting me more fruit, a little Japanese woman with the wildest hair I had ever seen showed up at the doorstep asking to see John. I had assumed that she was a fan, so I was good sport and said that no, he wasn't home, and she left. Then she kept coming, and she started calling nonstop, and it was so bad that I had to get our number changed. Yet John claimed he had no idea who she was.

I opened the door, and I almost fainted. Across from me was an aging woman who was about the height of Ringo (who was just an inch or two shorter than me, something I teased him for ruthlessly), with my face and graying dark brown hair.

"John!" I called, the familiar fear washing over me, though she hadn't laid a hand on me for twelve years. My hand instinctively went to my stomach, as if I could somehow protect my unborn baby with it. _This is it_, I thought. _She came for one last pounding, and that's how I'll lose the baby. _

John came quickly because of the tone of my voice, and though he had never met her, he recognized my mother from her resemblance to me. All he knew is that the woman used to hurt his wife physically and emotionally, but that's all he needed to know. He put a hand on my shoulder protectively, and a wave of calm washed over me. "How did you get our address?" he asked her coldly.

My mother smiled, "John, think for a second about what you're saying and who you are." He opened his mouth to make an argument, but snapped it shut when he realized that she was right. All of Britain had our address against our will. For her, someone who was actually halfway intelligent, it should have been easy to find.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" I asked bluntly. I didn't care about being polite to her. She was the devil in disguise that Elvis had warned me about.  
She laughed, "You're just like your father." I filnched. "What it comes down to is that I just had to see you one more time. I was reading the paper and it was talking about you and John, and I decided that I had to see my children one more time. I just saw Britt over at Merseyside yesterday."

"How did you think we were going to react to this?" I asked her softly.

"Poorly," she agreed. "But I wanted to finally tell you my side, and apologize. It's been eating away at me for years."

I moved away from the door, John going with me. "Come in," I said. "This ought to be a laugh." John led her to the living room while I went to the kitchen to get us all juice. I decided not to give any of my favorite juices, and instead gave her the Mystery Juice that I made at the end of the week with whatever fruit was leftover after I had made the good juice. "Talk," I told my former demon. "I don't have all bloody day, and I'm certainly not going to waste it on you."

She sipped her juice and swallowed it slowly. "Well, I don't know how to start. It'll be harder talking to you than it was with Britt. You were always more unforgiving and held grudges. I assme you've got a large one against me?" I didn't answer that. "Alright, then. I drank heavily because your father dying was just too much, and I quickly became an alcoholic. After you ran away, I sat down and asked myself, "What have I done?". I ran away to Scotland, and met a man, and we're married. We've got two sons." The witch leaned forward and took my hands, "And I just wanted to tell you that I'm so very sorry, Holly. For everything I did to you, mental and physical. You've turned into a very sucessful and beautiful woman. I'm very proud of you."

"Did you really think that this would change my mind about you?" I asked. "When people ask me about my parents, do you know what I tell them? That I'm an orphan. Dad was murdered in 1957, and Mom took her own life in 1958."

The shell of my mother stood up to leave. "I didn't think that it would change anything, and if I had, I would be a fool. But I came and apologized, which was the right thing to do. Thank you for the juice." She let herself out.

I stared at the closed door for a long time. "Holly, love?" John asked me. I looked at him, and burst into tears. "Hey, now," John whispered, taking me into his arms. "It's alright."

"Fucking horomones!" I cried. I never cry. This isn't me.

"It's ok, we all have to cry," he told me. "You know I love you, Holly. I love you more than anything else. More than my own life. You know that."

"God, John, if I didn't have you, I don't know what I would have done," I told him as I tried to calm myself down. "Thank you for everything. I love you."

John smiled down at me, "Come on, girl. Let's go on a drive."


	69. Chapter 69

**Chapter 69  
I Go to Extremes**

Though Lauren and Morgan had only planned on staying for three _weeks_, they ended up staying for three _months_. By now, I was as big as a house and as lazy and unathletic as it gets, but they always came over (now they were staying with their own Beatles instead of me and my Beatle) and dragged me somewhere. This particular weekend, Julian was over and Lauren and Morgan wanted to take me out shopping and have lunch.

"Holly-mum, can I come with?" he asked me, looking up at me.

"Go ask your dad," I replied. Julian ran up the stairs to the music room, where John was currently working on songs for his first solo album.

"He's so adorable," Morgan said.

"Hard to believe that he's a work of Lennon's," Lauren agreed.

"I know," I told them as I glanced at the stairs. "I loathe the day that he stops calling me his Holly-mum."

"I CAN GO!" Julian yelled as he ran down the stairs to join us.

"Not so loud!" I reminded him. "Dad's writing and he'll have a fit, not to mention the fact that you'll give me a pounding headache."

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"Don't be, it's just something to remember."

We all piled into the car and went to all of our 'regular' stores (I got another guitar, an acoustic bass guitar this time, despite the inevibility of John killing me. I have way too many guitars), then to lunch. We went to our favorite cafè and sat outside because we were having an Indian summer that year and it was nice.

"So, Holl, when are you going to not be a blimp anymore?" Lauren asked casually as she took a drink of her coffee.

"What does that mean?" I chuckled. That kid could always make me laugh with his ineptitude about our adult inuendos and sayings.

"That's Aunt Lauren's extremely _polite_ way of asking Holly-mum when she's having the baby," Morgan explained to my step-son sarcastically.

"Soon, hopefully," I replied. "They say that I still have eight more weeks, but I honestly feel like I've swallowed a planet, and I just want to have the thing already."

"Are you excited to get a little brother or sister, Julian?" Morgan asked.

"Yep!" he answered as he sipped his lemonade. "They keep telling me it won't be fun for a while, but I'm still excited."

"That's good," Morgan smiled. "Little siblings are fun. You can bully them into doing things for you."

Julian's eyes lit up. "Can you really?" he asked, ideas already formulating in his eyes.

"Don't let her corrupt you, Jules," Lauren told him. "I was the little sibling, and I hated it. Here I am, almost thirty, and they still refer to me as "little sister"." We all laughed and contributed our third of the bill.

After we left, we went and bought Julian a new car for putting up with three women for a whole day. When we got home, John's car wasn't in the driveway, but I didn't really think anything of it. I just figured he had gone out to get something, like cigarettes. No big deal, he would be back in a couple of minutes.

"Hey Morgs!" I called to them. "How do you and Lauren feel about playing cars with Jules for an hour or so? I think I'm going to go out on my daily walk."

"Take as long as you like!" Morgan said.

"I call dibs on the blue car!" Lauren exclaimed as she made a beeline to the racetrack that was set up on our living room floor.

Feeling that Julian was in good hands for an hour, I walked down the street, feeling a warm, Indian summer breeze on my arms. I felt so great. It was the first time in my life that everything was going right for me. What a lovely feeling.

John Lennon's POV

Quite a while after Morgan, Lauren, Holly, and Julian had left (just to make sure that they were _gone_ gone), I went downstairs and put on my jacket, despite the fact it was still so warm. I had a little business to do that I couldn't tell Holly about. I couldn't tell anyone about it. They'd all get the wrong idea. I was doing the right thing, though. I knew I was.

As soon as I got to the park, I saw a Japanese woman with wild hair in the middle of it, standing out from the rest of the crowd. She was one of the strangest people ever. Strange voice. Strange look (more like strange hair). Strange art, which she kept sending me and asking me to fund. Strange days had certainly found me, as Jim Morrison might say. Holly was daft about The Doors (though I always joked it was because she had a big old crush on Jim Morrison), and it had rubbed off on me.

Before her name could leave my tongue, she spotted me out of the corner of her eye and waved. "John!" she called.

"Hello, Yoko," I said calmly. "Do you know why I asked you to come here?"

She smiled, "I do not know. It is good, I hope?"

I shook my head, "No, it isn't. Yoko, I came here to ask you to leave me and my family alone. My wife-"

That's when Yoko did something I hadn't been expecting. She kissed me on the lips, cutting off my words.

That's also when I saw Holly out of the corner of my eye. Normally, I would expect her to come punch me and scream profanity; however, eight-month-pregnant Holly burst into tears and walked away as quickly as she could, having been rendered of the ability to run.

Fuck me.


	70. Chapter 70

**Chapter 70  
Bad Moon Rising**

When I saw John and that fucking woman, my heart shattered. He _had_ known her. The sneaky bastard _cheated_ on me! As soon as I had thought that he had changed and that he loved me, he did this. We were having a baby in eight weeks! Well, _I_ was having a baby in eight weeks.

Me being my horomonal pregnant self, I burst into tears and tried to walk away as fast as I could, though in my mind I was running. As soon as I left, the baby began kicking frantically. It made me even more upset.

"Miss, are you alright?" a man stopped me and asked, genuine concern in his eyes. "I don't know you, but whatever person made a pregnant woman cry ought to have some sense knocked into him, if you ask me."

I shook my head, "No, I'm not alright, but I appreciate the concern." I gave him a watery smile and left. I knew what I was going to do now.

I made my way to the parking lot and looked for the car I knew John would have taken. When I spotted it, I took a bobby pin out of my hair and put it in the lock. As soon as I heard the little _click_, I got in and drove to the only place that had always been home to me. The only person who had always loved me, no matter what. Paul.

Paul came out to meet me, having seen the car. He had a grin on his face when I got out of the car, but it fell when he saw my face.

"Love, what's wrong?" he asked me as he put an arm around me. Warmth spread through my body.

"J-John..._kissed_!" I began sobbing again, and Paul took me inside. He sat me down and fetched me a cup of tea.

"Ok, Holl, follow my instructions," he said slowly, as if speaking to a child. I nodded. "Take a deep breath, take a sip of tea-careful, it's hot-, then tell me what happened." I did what he told me to do. "Oh, Missy..." Paul said as he took me into his arms. I am eternally grateful for all of the times those arms have comforted me over the years.

"Can I stay here tonight?" I asked Paul. "I can't stand the thought of going home tonight. I don't think I can look at his face."

"You know that you'll always have a place at any house of mine," Paul told me. "This might be my house, but you'll always be my home."

John Lennon's POV

Since my clever wife had picked the lock of my car, I had to walk home, though in my opinion I deserved it. Just another person that slipped through my fingers. That number was growing steadily. Mum. Stu. Cyn. Paul. George. Ringo. Holly. Our unborn baby. Could I ever just do something _right_ for once?

When I got to the house, I saw Morgan sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.

She looked up, "Oh, John, you're home. D'you know where Holly's gone off to? She's been gone an awful long time."

I sat down and looked her in the eyes, and she was taken aback by the broken expression on my face. "Can I talk to you?" I asked. She hesitated, then nodded. I told Morgan my side of the story, and I began sobbing near the end. "Jesus, Morgan," I said. "I fucked up bad." Morgan gave me an awkward but comforting hug.

"Go talk to her," she said simply. "Do you know where she might be? I'm starting to get kind of worried. Having an eight month pregnant woman who's emotionally unstabble wander around London isn't good."

"Of course I know," I told her as I grabbed Holly's keys off of the hook. "McCartney's."

"Lauren's there," Morgan mused. "This could get interesting." She stood up and put her hands on my shoulders. "Go get 'em, tiger."

"I'm John Fuckin' Lennon, what's the worst that could happen?" I asked.

"There's the spirit!" Morgan said. "Now get out of my sight. I'm trying to read the paper."

I felt so dirty driving Holly's Aston Martin after what I had done, but it was the only thing left to do. I couldn't live without her. I was in the dark, and she gave me light to help me stumble out of the tunnel filled with horrible decisions and drugs. If I lost her, I didn't know what I would do. Probably go to the middle of that park where it all happened, put a gun in my mouth, and pull the trigger. Maybe that's a bit extreme to those of you who have never been in love, but that's honestly what I would do.

I had to park in the street because my car was now taking up the drive way. Deep breaths. In, out. After calming myself, I got out of the car and went to the door. McCartney answered the door.

"What are you doing here, Lennon?" he asked me. "I have half a mind to go cripple you. Do you know who showed up at my doorstep today, John? Holly. She was sobbing, and I mean sobbing, something I've never seen her do, and I've known her for fourteen years."

"I fucked up bad, Paul," I told him. "Can I please talk to her? She didn't see what she had thought she had seen. It's a misunderstanding."  
"She's sleeping," Paul told me. "And even if she wasn't, I probably still wouldn't let you."

"You still love her, don't you?" I asked bluntly.

"Always will," he confirmed. "But this has nothing to do with that. This is me being a good friend."

"I'll be back tomorrow and I'll try again," I told him. "Goodbye, Paul."


	71. Chapter 71

**Chapter 71  
PS I Love You**

John Lennon's POV

True to my word, I returned to Paul's the next day when I knew Holly was up; she had always been an insomniac, and lately she had been getting even less sleep. I hadn't been able to get to sleep without her in the bed snuggled up to me anyways. You never know how much you'll miss something until they're gone.

When I got to Paul's, Lauren answered the door. She was giving me a look, but soundlessly moved away from the door and let me inside. Holly was sitting on the couch in the living room, hunched over a notebook with a pen in her hand. She was twirling it in her fingers and clicking it twice with each revolution, a tell tale sign that she had no motivation or inspiration.

As soon as she saw me, her frustrated and uninspired face took on a dark expression as she turned back to the notebook and wrote a sentence, maybe two, then looked back at me.

"Piss off, John," Holly said in a bored tone.

"I'm not going to make you listen to me. Just read this." I handed her the letter that I had wrote late last night when it had became evident that sleep wasn't in my foreseeable future. I still remember what it said like I wrote it yesterday.

_Dear Holly,_

_You and I are two of the same, and sometimes it frightens me. We're both insomniacs. We both express ourselves easier with the written word than the words that we speak. We like to have one last cigarette before bed, and we both smoke a thousand a day when it all becomes too much. We're both extremely blunt. We both have trust issues that stem from our past. And most of all, our insecurities. _

_I don't know why I didn't tell you that I was going to go meet Yoko and ask her to leave us alone. I suppose I just figured that it was my problem and it was mine to deal with. While I was talking to her, she kissed me, and you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. I just can't help but feel all of this is my fault and mine only._

_If I ever did anything to make you doubt that I love you more than my own life, then I'm a fool and I am truly sorry, because it's true. I've never loved anything more than I love you, material or otherwise. You are the most unique and beautiful person I have ever met, and certainly the most talented. I hope you can forgive me eventually. If not, well, there just might be one less John Lennon in the world. _

_I love you with every fiber of my being. _

_-John_

Holly stared at the letter for a long time, and I didn't speak for that amount of time.

"Damn, I'm a fucking asshole," she whispered. She turned to me and kissed me on the lips, more passionate than anything I had ever felt. "Somewhere deep inside, you were always forgiven," Holly told me. "My brain just gets in the way."

"Can we go home now?" I asked hopefully. "Julian missed you last night."

She nodded, "Yeah. Let's go home."

Paul and Lauren opened up the closet door, where they had been spying on us. I _knew_ it was too quiet in that house.

"Your twenty eight fucking years old, Macca," I told him.

His cheeks flushed maroon. "It was Lauren's idea!" he protested as they pointed at each other.

"Speak for yourself," Lauren replied.

"Whatever. Ta, both of you," Holly said as she hugged both of them, kissing Paul's cheek when she reached him. For once, I didn't feel the slightest twinge of jealousy. He was her brother, and finally, you could see in his eyes that she was his sister.

"Get outta here, you crazy kids," Paul said as her ruffled her hair. She slapped his hand and put the hair back in place.

"Bye!" we waved, and went home.

Of course, my home had always been sitting in the passenger sat of the car next to me.

Paul's McCartney's POV 

We were both silent for a heartbeats before I broke it.

"You know that one never forgets their first love," I told Lauren as I took both of her hands in mine. They seemed as though they fit together. "But I'm trying so fucking hard."

She kissed me, and smiled at me afterwards. "I know, love. Believe me, I'll never forget you," Lauren told me

"I'm your first love?" I asked with an amused grin.

"Yeah. I never really saw anyone as much more than a quick shag or a fun night. I always thought, _there's time for love later. I'm young._ But slowly, I began to realize that I'm not as young as I like to think I am. I'm almost fucking _thirty_, for Christ sake!" she laughed. "And that's around the time I reconnected with you, and life was fun again."

"Christ, I'm honored," I said in a joking tone as we kissed again. I had never felt so good in my life; it was as if there was a weight off of my shoulders.  
What a wonderful feeling.


	72. Chapter 72

_I hope everyone's enjoying these chapters. I haven't gotten any reviews, so I wouldn't know... Everyone's seemed to drop off the face of the earth!_

**Chapter 72  
And I Love Her**

I was awoken by a kiss that tasted like cigarettes, something I hadn't tasted in nine months. My eyes fluttered open and I grinned at John, who was hovering over me. It must not have been long after he himself had woken, because his hair was a mess and he didn't have his glasses on yet.

"Well, this is a first," I smiled. "You woke up before I did."

"There's a first time for everything," he replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Bored. I ran out of things to occupy my time," I answered. "I'm ready to not be pregnant anymore."

"I thought you wanted to fool around with the Jaguar you bought," he said, referring to the newest edition to my guitar family that I had purchased earlier in the week.

"I'm too fucking big!" I complained. "My guitar strap is too small, and I can't sit or stand comfortably long enough to play for a good amount of time."

"Don't worry. Soon, you won't be. The baby will be here and we'll all be one dysfunctional family." He was always doing that. Reassuring me and trying to make me feel as happy as possible. That's probably my favorite thing about John. I wish that everyone else could have seen him the way that we had seen him.

I smiled at him. "Is Jules up?" I asked, taking the pen on my bedside table and twirling it with my fingers the way Ringo twirled his drumsticks sometimes when Paul and John were having a moment and George was tooling around on his guitar.

"When I went into his room he was out like a light, but that was when I first woke up and I deemed you too cute to wake up just yet," John said as he stood up and went to put the shirt that was hanging on the footboard of the bed.

"Go wake him up," I said as I mentally prepared myself to sit up. "Then we can go out for breakfast."

"It's probably more like lunch by now," John mused. "Are you sure you don't want help getting up?"

"Yes!" I shooed him away, and he left to wake up his son, though I admit that I often consider Julian my son as well.

I stood up, and I felt a wave of pain, along with _wetness_. That could only mean one thing.

"John!" I yelled, hoping he was still in hearing range of our bedroom.

"What?!" he yelled back.

"I think we're going to have to raincheck breakfast!" I yelled again as I tried to keep my calm. I heard footsteps in the hallway, and John and Julian stood in the doorway, staring at me.

"Do you mean what I'm think you mean?" my husband asked.

I nodded and winced as the pain hit me again. I glanced at the clock. Six minutes.

"I think the baby's coming," I said, officially making it a reality.

"What're we gonna do with Jules?" I asked John as realization was still setting in for him. "I don't really think he should ride with us."

"Why?" Julian asked.

"I'm likely to teach you some words on accident that your mum isn't ready for you to know yet," I explained, then looked back to John.

"We could call Paul and Lauren, and they could come get him," John suggested. Paul had always been good with Julian. I nodded in agreement, and John went to the phone to dial his former writing partner.

"Hey, Jules," I said to my step son. "Do you think you can stay here alone and not break anything while you wait for Paul and Lauren? I don't think I can wait much longer."

Julian nodded, looking nervous. "Yes."

"Don't worry about it," I reassured him. "Next time you see me, you'll have a sister or brother, and that's pretty gear, right?"

"I guess so."

I kissed his head, and he left to go back to sleep. I looked to John, who had hung up the phone. "Are we ready to go?" I asked, making my way to the closet to get my suitcase I had packed weeks ago in preperation for this occasion. After getting my suitcase, I went to the dresser to get some "real pants" to change into. Despite having a baby, I wasn't about to go to a public place in my pajamas. Same old me.

"Are you ready?" he asked, changing the meaning of the question. I was about to answer, but I felt another contraction, which cut my words off.

"Ask me again sometime," I decided on, and picked up my suitcase. "Let's go."

John took my suitase from my hand, and we made our way down the stairs and to the first car in the garage, which happened to be my DB5. We piled in, and were out in a flash.

"How are you?" John asked me. Every minute or so, he would take his eyes off of the road to look at me, and I was slightly worried that we were going to get into a crash, along with the fact that he was driving over the speed limit.

"How do you think?" I asked sarcastically, reaching my hand out to change the radio station.

John looked back at the road and realized at the last second that it was a red light. He muttered a few obscenities under his breath while I tried to pry myself off of the windshield.

"John, they're getting closer," I winced as I squeezed his hand.

"I'm sorry, Holly," he apologized.  
"It takes two to tango," I said. "It was fun while it lasted. We should have bought a house that's closer to the hospital!"

"I know, honey. I know."

We did eventually get there, me weaving a long tapistry of obscenities all the way through the parking lot.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck!"

"We're almost there, Holl," John reassured me. The doors were in fact in sight, but yet they were still so far away... I wasn't even aware we were inside until John said something about me being in labor.

"How far apart are the contractions?" the lady asked. John had a puzzled look on his face.

"Three minutes!" I said through clenched teeth as another one hit.

"Ok, let's get you in there!"

Let me tell you, giving birth is the strangest thing I've ever experienced. There's people all around you who seem to have no sort of task, some guy looking at your parts, some woman telling you how to push when you're pretty sure she's never been pregnant in her entire life. In other words, it was utter chaos.

"It's a girl!" They held a baby who was screaming her lungs out (tell tale sign that she was a child of John and I). I smiled tiredly, still partially in pain and not quite with it. My head felt as though I had been smoking pot, though I hadn't touched a joint in years.

"It's a girl, Holly! A girl," John repeated to me, his hand squeezing mine. We kissed.

They whisked our daughter away, and all of a sudden, we were alone.

"What do you want to name her?" a nurse asked us. I froze like a deer in the headlights. We had talked about names, but none of them seemed to fit our daughter, who was back now, clean and in my arms. I looked down at her. She had tufts of auburn hair and opened her brown eyes identical to mine and stared at me, as if to say, _we're waiting_!

"Rose," John said. "Rose Layla Lennon." I looked down at her again, and she immediately registered in my mind as Rose. Why hadn't I thought of it? It was such a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Simple, yet effective.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Rose Layla." The nurse left us alone again.

"God, right now I feel like I'm on LSD, except there's less colors and I lack the urge to go jump out the window," John commented as Rose grasped tightly onto his index finger. She yawned.

I laughed, "We did a good job on her, then?" I asked.

"Yes," he nodded and gave me another kiss.

"Why don't you go take a break or something? You've been in here with me since they got us a room," I suggested. "At the very least, go get Julian so we can show her to him. I know he's anxious."

He agreed reluctantly and left us. Rose opened her eyes and was staring at me.

"Hey, Rosie," I said to her. "I'm your mummy, and you better be fucking grateful, because I just went to hell and back so you could be here. Daddy left for a moment to go get your big brother, but he'll be back soon. I hope you know how much we all love you. I know so many people who already love you, even though they don't know you yet. Uncle Paul, Aunt Lauren, Uncle George, Aunt Morgan, Uncle Ringo, Aunt Maureen, and their whole zoo of little Starkeys, and Aunt Britt, and your cousins, and your Uncle Alex, who had to go before he could meet you, but I know he would have adored you." I teared up a little as I thought about Alex.

The door opened, revealing Julian and John.

"Hey Jules," I said, wiping my eyes and pushing away my sentimentality. "Come here and see your sister." His legs carried the rest of his body towards me. I patted a spot on the bed next to me. "C'mon, hop up."

"She's beautiful," Julian breathed.

"Do you want to hold her?" I asked.  
Julian hesitated, then nodded and tried to fashion his arms into a cradle to mimick mine. I set Rose in her brother's arms. "Hi, Rose. I'm Julian, your brother. You and I are going to have a lot of fun when you're older. We'll play jokes on the adults, and we'll never rat each other out. I can't wait for that day." Rose only sighed in her sleep and moved her arm.

John tried to pull all three of us into one big bear hug, "One happy, dysfunctional family."


	73. Chapter 73

_I don't really like this chapter, but then again, I say that about EVERY chapter. So, you decide._

_PS, I must really be out of Beatle songs if I've sunk to using a Skid Row song. Probably has something to do with me listening to the song while writing it._

**Chapter 73  
I Remember You**

George Harrison's POV

John came back with Julian after thirty minutes or so, telling us that they had put Rose in the nursery and he was wondering if we all wanted to go see her, since Holly was supposed to be resting. We all agreed, and on our way we went.

"Which one is she?" Ringo asked as we were all craning our heads to get a glimpse, which, of course, means that poor Ringo practically had to stand on his tip toes.

"Uh..." John trailed off. Great. He didn't know either. "The one wearing a little pink hat?"

"Are you kidding me, Lennon?" Lauren asked him rhetorically, verbalizing what we had all been thinking.

"You'll know when you see her," he told us.

Boy, how right he was.

After looking around for a while, I noticed that there was one particular baby who was staring at me with her brown eyes. I would know those eyes anywhere. They belonged to Holly.

For a moment or two, I became very sad and nostalgic as I thought about how John had everything that I was supposed to have in 1964. Holly for a wife. A daughter. But I wasn't jealous in the slightest. I had my chance, and I fucked up; despite the wording, I'm not bitter either.

It was the strangest thing. If I thought of a particular memory with Holly in it, I still felt as in love with her as I was all those years ago. But when I came back to reality and Morgan was with me, I was so in love with her. It was funny, really, because Holly and Morgan are worlds apart in terms of lovers. Perhaps that's why I loved Morgan as much as I did. She was a change of scenery, and I was grateful.

When I saw Rose, that's when it was really over between Holly and I, though we both knew that there was a younger spirit inside of our hearts that would always love one another. But seeing Rose is when I officially decided that my heart henceforth belonged to Morgan. It was probably the most important decision that I made in my life.

I pointed to the baby who was still staring into my soul with eyes that seemed to hold wisdom that she hadn't obtained yet. "There she is," I said softly.

Everyone 'ooh'ed and 'aww'ed over her, and I escaped back to my thoughts.

"Are you thinking about Holly?" Morgan asked me discreetly.

"Yes," I admitted shamefully.

"I'm not angry," she reassured me. "I can't even begin to imagine how hard this is for you."

I stared at her for a moment. It was almost as if she had read my mind. "I love you," I told her.

"I know," Morgan replied, and it was such a Hollyesque answer that it caught me off guard for a minute or two. I shook myself out of it and kissed her. "The question is can you see us doing this?" she asked the Magic Question, the one that most men feared. I didn't think it was all that unwarranted, because we had been in a relationship for about a year before we actually admitted we were in a relationship.

"I'd love to," I answered instantly. Our hands found each other, and I began to read the information on Rose's bassinet, my eyes landing on her birthday.

"Happy thirtieth, John," I said. Everyone laughed as we realized that John had turned thirty a few hours ago. Once again, I didn't join in the chatter, and I resumed reading the card on Rose's bassinet.

_Rose Layla Lennon  
12:34 9 October, 1970  
9 lbs 0 oz  
Parents: John and Holly Lennon  
_  
Paul McCartney's POV

After a while, I slipped away to go talk with Holly. I somehow felt like it was something I had to do, like breathing. True to my assumption, she wasn't asleep. She was sitting with a book so thick that it could only be the Bible on her lap. Her eyes imediately turned to me when she heard the door open, and she began to smile.

"I've been expecting you," Holly told me in a creepy voice. I laughed and pulled a chair up to her bed.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Really sore," she said. "And probably very drugged soon, if they don't see me go to sleep."

"I know what you say about doctors," I said with a smile.

"Fuck 'em," she finished her own saying. "I still agree with it, too."

"We just went and saw Rose," I told her, still trying to make small talk. "She's adorable, but she definitely seemed to have eyes for Geo."

Holly laughed a little. "I was surprised that she turned out the way she did. With me and John as parents, I didn't think she would be nearly as cute as she is."

"Stop kidding yourself, you're still one of the prettiest birds I've seen in my life, and I've seen a lot of birds," I refuted her comment, then continued. "Which is sort of what I wanted to talk about. I'm finally over you. Lauren and I got together after you and John left."

"But we're friends?" she asked.

My mouth dropped open in shock, "Of course we're still friends! You'll always be my best friend." I put my hand on top of hers and squeezed it. "So, friend, what do you want to do when you get out of here?"

"Saturday lunch?" she suggested. "Our Italian restauraunt?"

"Don't forget to bring your kid," I warned her as I pointed my finger at her. "If I don't see some cuteness, I'm sure to get quite irate."

"Of course," she agreed. "That's my life now, remember?"

Knowing I was friends with Holly again and _only_ friends was the best feeling in the world. It could be like the old days again, but somehow, I knew those days were long gone, and I missed them. I think we all did, but we would make do.

I used to congradulate myself for telling her that I didn't love her anymore. Now I realize who I should be thanking is Holly, for knowing and being such a good sport about it all these years. Any other woman would have surely gone mad and confronted me about it while sobbing, but Holly's approach is probably what helped me stop, in the end.

Because after all, in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.


End file.
